sitting on your grown up couch in your grown up apartment with your younger brother you‘ve only seen twice a year (if that?) for the past five-ish years. ideally you will have just gone to a hardcore show together in a church rec room in the middle of some nothing suburban town in new jersey, adrenaline pumping as you watch people joyfully bludgeon themselves and each other, slipping spinning and flinging limbs - all in good fun. you never usually get fast food and you never usually order delivery, but because this is a rare occasion, you order the wendy’s, you ignore the price, you flip on futurama. it is also an episode poking fun at fast food. it is 1:30 in the morning. he gets set up with blankets and pillows, you leave him with the remote. after these years in the marines he now prefers to sleep in jeans and a t-shirt, and at this point you’ve stopped bothering him to do otherwise. he’s comfortable. you make plans to go shoot guns tomorrow, and this time he’ll pick up the tab. you’ll have dinner at your parents’ before his flight monday. in the meantime, you both sit on the couch watching cartoons and dipping fries into a Frosty, legs draped over each other, cracking each other’s toes