"Nuisance" by Justin R

“Hey, what are you doing?”

It was another one of those nights. I caught him watching TV again. It was stupidly obvious too. I was doing homework in my room when I heard footsteps across the hall, heading away from me, small footsteps at that. I knew what it was, and ignored it at first. Then, a few seconds later, the speakers from the TV downstairs blast whatever nonsense he was watching. I was way too tired to deal with him, but clearly, someone had to, and I was the only other person in the house awake.

I steadily made my way downstairs, weary eyed, and into the family room. He had seated himself around three feet in front of the seventeen inch flat screen. This boy was going to blind himself. I spoke once, twice, three times, each call progressively getting louder and angrier. At the last one, he quickly turned his head, a mixture of surprise and fear dwelling in his expression, and he goes, “What?”

You see, I wouldn’t have a problem with that kind of response if he was anyone else. But this boy is my younger brother, and he’s about a decade younger than me. Society would have us at different generations for all I know. Another thing: I may not remember elementary school very well, but I am certain that a kid should not be awake at two in the morning. Heck, I shouldn’t be awake at two in the morning. I should be asleep, trying to squeeze in four hours of sleep before I have to get ready for the day. Instead, I have to work on a project I have procrastinated on for weeks, and now I’m forcing myself to deal with this nuisance of a brother.

“Why are you awake?” I ask, sternly.

He blinks hard. I notice that his eyes are weary. I point in the direction of his room. “Go to sleep.”

“Fine.” He says lazily. He began to drag himself upstairs. It takes him 10 seconds to go up one step. I tell him to hurry up and he reluctantly picks up his pace.

I returned to my room, and tried to focus on the task at hand: a project. Thankfully, I was almost done. I just needed the finishing touches, the last few details for good points. However, I was already at my limit. I could barely stay awake. The half-dozen cups of coffee I had over the past several hours suggested that I was at the point of the night where coffee wouldn’t help anymore. Come to think of it, I drank quite a bit of coffee, didn’t I? My bladder certainly thought so.

I left my room to head towards the bathroom. Since I was probably going to want a snack before I checked in for the night, I went to the bathroom downstairs, and, lo and behold, who did I happen to find sneaking his way to the TV? The boy hid upon the sound of my footsteps. I used the moment to quickly snatch the remote from its normal resting spot and brought it with me to the bathroom. When that five minute break was over with, I looked back to find my brother searching for the remote under the seats. In spite, I waved the remote in front of him, before using it to point back to his room. I repeated myself with a stern voice: “Go to sleep. You have school tomorrow.”

He begrudgingly complied. I had the feeling he didn’t want to give me a break. However, I have school too, and at this point, can I really say that school is tomorrow? I spent the next hour finishing my project. It was three o’clock when I took a final survey of it. Had I not procrastinated so much, perhaps I wouldn’t have done such a shoddy job. Well, it’s not like it could be helped. My motivation has been dwindling as of late. I turned off my lights and lied on the bed. Not a second had passed before I heard crying. Come on, I was already at my limit here! And of course, it was coming from my brother’s room.

I barged in, ready to yell at him for staying up so late, only to realize he really was asleep. Well then why was he crying? I took a closer look—he was wriggling a little, and whimpers seemed to come from his direction. He also didn’t seem to have a blanket or anything, as if he knocked out right on the bed. I sighed deeply. Didn’t think he’d have nightmares. Was it my fault? Probably. Or maybe it was because of whatever nonsense he was trying to watch. I carefully tucked him into a thick blanket, placed his stuffed toys within his reach and quietly left the room before returning to my own. It was a really good thing he wasn’t still planning on being mischievous. I was well aware that I was his least favorite brother. However, I did not intend on letting him have the “pleasure” of having three hours of sleep, or getting his eyes weakened by the bright glow of a screen, or having a month-long project to complete within three nights. At least, not yet, not while he’s still in grade school.

Then, it was six o’clock. I woke up to the annoying sound of my alarm. I could barely lift myself off the bed. The others in the house were already awake, except for the late watcher. He woke up at my fifth time yelling, whining as I took it to myself to literally drag him off the bed. The,n my little twelve-year-old sister took over the operation, asking which cereal he wants for breakfast, carrying him downstairs, and apologizing for putting too much milk. Honestly, the little guy’s a bit spoiled.