"Ken-chan, come down! Obaa-san wants to talk to you now!"
The rush of footsteps descending the stairs could be heard clearly in Kyosuke's sensitive ears. He was currently curled up in the blankets, trying to ignore Kensuke's excited screams when their grandmother's voice asked how they were.
Kyosuke's room lights were off, suggesting to outsiders that he might be fast asleep. That was the original intention if a minute ago he had been indifferent to the ringing of the landline—a call from his grandmother abroad.
From earlier, Kyosuke had been listening, and finding that Kensuke was the one their mother called first made Kyosuke suddenly choke on his own saliva. He wanted to sleep, but now, Kyosuke's eyes refused to close and his fists were actively clenched against his chest.
Sick. It hurts in his heart. Being number two wasn't good at all, Kyosuke thought.
Sick. It hurts in there. Being number two turned out not to be good at all.
