“It’s the issue!” Byron shouted the words into his brother’s face. “It’s what I’m trying to get into that thick skull of yours! Ever since sixth grade, I’ll make the effort to make friends and then you’ll show up to a party or even a place where we’re sitting around and talking and you’re in, you’re part of the group! It’s only easy for you to make friends because you take mine!”

“It’s not a transaction, you dipshit! Just because they’re my friends doesn’t mean they’re not yours!”

“It does! It always fuck—” Byron pulled his hand to the side, ripping the shirt more. He stuck his other elbow into Tristan’s shoulder, partially shrugging free of the hand that gripped him. What followed was flurry of him wrestling for a grip and striking out in half-push, half-punch hits, and Tristan doing much the same. Tristan prevailed, just a bit bigger, a bit stronger. Byron found his breath. “It always fucking did, Tristan! You join my groups of friends and then you make fun of me!”

“Reality check,” Tristan, his face inches from Byron’s, breath hot against Byron’s face. “Ninth grade, little brother. That’s what people do. Dad and our uncles rib each other.”

“Rib!” Byron shouted. “Not fucking destroying each other!”

His voice cracked at ‘destroying’. He hated that.

“Destroy?” Tristan asked. He started to laugh, but he didn’t even get a sound out before Byron pulled his fist free. Byron bucked, trying to dislodge his brother, and brought a knee up to hit him in the side. When held back, he scratched—anything to hurt, to convey what words couldn’t. Tristan winced. “Fuck, that hurt! Stop!”

Byron panted. “If there’s a new thing in clothes, you beat me to it.”

“That’s not destroying you, you shit. That’s me reading the fucking magazines and paying attention!”

“If I beat you to the punch, wear my hair a way that looks good, you do the same and say I copied you! I can’t say things without you saying I’m copying! I can’t talk about a movie I watched or say a slang word without having to wonder if you’re going to use it to get a laugh, or if people will do the pecking order inside joke shit and say you were there first, you beat me to it! They say it because you keep hammering it in!”

“I’ve been trying to make a point! You need to walk your own path!”

“You’re the fucking parasite! You’re the one who follows me! You’re the one who’s walking on my path and calling me the copycat! You’ve been doing it for years and there’s nothing left for me! That’s what’s destroying me!”