Ty and Jase

"Why do you get like that, Ty? Why?" Jason asked his twin harshly, furious with the most recent stunt Tyson had pulled. Again. After over again. It's like begging for a death wish, he thought. Playing games with the wires of destiny the way he does.

Carefully inhaling his Cuban cigar, Tyson gave him a cursory glance before turning his gaze outside, past the the floor-to-ceiling panelled windows to the beautiful english garden their mother had designed. Their deceased mother. Thanks to a jug of vicodin and some kegfuls of irish whisky. And let's not forget the stress pills - 'happy pills' - as their youngest brother Aaron likes to call it.

Naive kid.

"Well? Aren't you going to bother answering me?" Jason barked, eyebrows drawn in in anger.

Tyson switched his gaze to the ends of his cigar, twirling the insanely expensive commodity between his fingers slowly, marvelling the mix of dead colours. Dead, much like people he knew. Even Jase, perhaps? He smirked. Not literally. He took a long torturous breath before responding.

"What do you want me to say, Jase? You've been able to second-guess me since before we could both walk. What's stopping you now?" He said in a bored voice, taking another sweep of his cigar as he looked out the window again. He didn't see Jason looking at him incredulously.

Jason couldn't remember the last time he felt so out of place. He could hardly believe this was the same person who taught him how to shoot the basketball so that it landed always into the hoop when they were six. What the hell had happened to his brother? "What's stopping me? What's stopping me?" he shrieked.

In that moment, the insanity of what was happening struck him hard. And he laughed. Uproariously. Bitterly, until Tyson finally registered that his perpetually-composed brother, had seemed to crack.

"You know what you are Ty? You're like Two-Face in Batman. Manipulative as fuck. And worse, you like it," Jason spat bitterly.

*** unfinished...we'll see where this goes I guess.