Charlie sat on the slowly aging couch of the television room watching some TV with a open bag of chips by his lap and his small phone on the other, his eyes focused on the screen of whatever was on at the moment.
Charlie Sonner: 15 1/2 years old, in the 10th to 11th grade of Secondary School with his younger sister Lola(Who is now 13 years old)It's been summer vacation since grade up raising and Lola will be joining his classes soon. Sort of...British schools are odder than Americans.
Speaking of his once very small but still very funny little sister, Lola jumped upon him and steals the chip bag from him. "Hey!" Her older brother cried out in protest. But his yummy yummy snacks had already been murdered by the hands of his younger sibling.
Lola's form had changed since she was 6 years old, she's more modest and also very cute for her age now. She often spend some of her time listening to music than watch Batcat cartoons, spending most of her time wearing a cute white blouse that has some lace and super short black shorts with many buttons that lead to her belly button, semi cute semi creepy black thigh high stockings that take the form of cats, matching her short heeled childish black boots that only stop at her ankles.
Her hair has gotten a tad bit longer but still have enough to make two pigtails on both side of her head like always.
Charlie had always loved Lola because she didn't really change out of her childhood self.
Yes, she's more grown with an older shell, but nothing really changed her much but her shell. She still has her goofy and hyper personality since she was a toddler, she still has her odd creativity for art, and, Oh!, the school pictures!!!
Yes, he indeed love his sister. But he also love his snacks for the last day of being on vacation before going back to school drama.
In a sudden rush of hunger and frustration, Charlie lunged at his sister to grab what he assumed to be the remaining of the chips in the soft colored wrapper feeling bag.
The two struggled to get the bag into each hands, laughing and screaming a few curse words sometimes during the wrestling. After what felt like hours of this feud, Charlie finally got the bag in victory. "Charlie! Lola! I just cleaned the sofa up.." Their mother sighed at the mess of crumbled up chips all across the sofa and some on the floor and even some on their clothes from the wrestling.
The two mumbled a "We're sorry mum," and helped her clean up the mess and cleaned themselves up in their room.
They do have that large bedroom they had since they were kids, but have a giant piece of semi thick fabric that in the center of the room so they can each have their privacy since they came through age of puberty.
They both went to their sides of their room and rest for the day that awaits a head of them...
Charlie stirred around his bed, ruffling the sheets below him along with his night shirt that shows his bare wet chest, his hands clutching hard on the head of chocolate brown hair as his skin burned and flushed with ever sloppy wet bite and kiss that traces around ever knook and crany of his soft freshly cleaned skin. He wanted this burning feeling that felt so wrong for a male to never end even though the back of his mind was telling him to not to get aroused by his trousers being tight from the man's scents...his lips...his voice...and of course his actions
The blonde boy's eyes shot wide open in shock as his sister drowned out his dream ever so painfully slowly.
"Come on! Let's go to my first day joining you at high school!" She cried out in excitement before running back to her side to change out of her nightgownd. All Charlie could do now was mutter a silent "fuck" as he gets out of the slightly damp bed sheets and went straight to the bathroom for a /cold/ shower...Leaving the sticky wet trousers along with his last night clothes behind him, his mind trying it's best to clear all out of that certain brunette boy from his mind.
But, sadly, he can't escape from him long...
Charlie and Lola walked down the stoned bath, which is covered by colorful dried dead leafs from the dead cold tress along the path, their bags over their shoulder talking on and on and on and ON about what possiblities awaits them past those iron gates of the school