“No, don’t cry, I hate it when you cry.”
Chris feels incredibly childish standing outside his sister’s bedroom door in his pajamas at 1am, but he has to tell somebody. He figures that Katie is the safest bet, as she’s basically obligated to give him a hard time as his older sister, and he’ll take that over getting shit from his friends any day.
Curling his toes in the carpet anxiously, Chris lowers the hand he has set to knock on the door and wipes his clammy palm off on his thigh for the third time. It’s ridiculous, he thinks. He’s done worse things than wake his sister up in the middle of the night. It’s not even like she has anything to do tomorrow morning‒ it’s winter break.
After a couple minutes of shifting his weight awkwardly, his chest uncomfortably tight, he manages to muster up enough nerve to give the door a soft tap before turning the knob. “Katie?” he whispers to the darkness. Chris can hear the sheets rustle as she rolls over in bed, squinting at him in the doorway.
Ato's Fandom Blog 