Mr.Right

"So is your name April because you were born in that month?"

We're all in the kitchen with Maverick behind the island, making toast and scrambled eggs.

Callum is beside me, behaving like a four-year-old who just learnt how to talk. I feel as though he's going to start lisping 'Where do babies come from?' or 'What makes the sky so blue?' at any second.

On the other hand, babies look cute, and Callum looks like a constipated fish. He keeps trying not to choke on the granola bar he stole from Maverick.

"Act like you're normal for once, would you?" Maverick flips the egg on the pan and turns off the cooker.

"Um... Yeah. That's exactly why I was named that." I answer Callum and his question-filled eyes widen even more.

"So let me guess, your last name is the month your parents got married, or something?"

"Actually, no. My last name's 'White'."

His brows furrows, but it's only a matter of seconds before he bursts out laughing, spitting crumbs of granola bar all over my face. "You're named after a month and your last name is a color?"

I have no idea why he finds that amusing but I have his spit all over my face and it's seriously grossing me out.

He catches Maverick's glare and coughs, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's actually a cool name."

Maverick serves the scrambled eggs on two plates and tosses them at us, filling some cups with milk and handing them to both of us.

"You're supposed to be in college," he says as Callum buries his face in his food, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

"I dropped out."

"You what?"

"I said, I dropped-" But Maverick stops him.

"I heard you the first time." Maverick puts his hands flat on the table and rests on them. "Your Mom's going to kill you."

"I know."

"You're going to get your bank account frozen," Maverick continues.

"I know."

"She's going to disown you."

I get it, my life is over. Thanks for explaining that," Callum's playful exterior is gone as he puts on a stern look. "I feel like I'm a disappointment to her. Why can't I just be the perfect son and get good GPAs, graduate from college and shit

I. "We may not have the best relationship as half-siblings and I may kick you out of my house all the time because

when Maverick

That's all I

at me. I sigh, nudging

successful person. I got excellent grades in Highschool and College... but look at me today.

see a young dude who's great, computer-wise and can hack any goddamn code

too short for you to do what other people

that I'm advising someone on their life issues when my own life is in shambles... I totally relate to

also beginning to feel like a disappointment which brings me to the second stage

~~~~~~

Bargaining.

forty-eight-hours-of-feeling-like-shit later, I'm curled up on my bed in foetus style, trying to get

has advanced, the illness becomes almost like another entity. The depression tells you horrible things about yourself and what

to stave off the bad thoughts in

the negative thoughts win out, leading

essentially full-blown

nights later, I've refused to step foot out of my room. I hear Maverick driving out of the house every morning and also hear when he

every night to ask me to come for dinner and, every time, I pretend to be asleep

feel as though you're in a wilderness which you can't escape. It completely overtakes you and makes you

and racing thoughts that are debilitating in nature. These thoughts will further perpetuate

to just end it

~~~~~~~~

the internet, when my eyes fall on my Skype app. I let

my two brothers, maybe?  Definitely not Jack - he's too busy with college and only has time when he's on holiday - which brings

a small smile as I click on his profile, and his

fingers and run a hand down my face so I wouldn't look like I've been crying

"Hey, little fella!"

over my mouth so I don't let

looks utterly

badly over his lips and a baby's flower-patterned hat is on his head, with

tell me you got a new job as a clown," I say, still trying not to laugh at his face.

and said that I can wear one of her hats." He adjusts the hat on

and immediately, I hear an ear-splitting

ears to block out the sound and he sighs and

hand to his temples and I can tell he's stressed-out. He's aged well