Bianca di Angelo was a patient person, but even she had her limits. She understood that getting ready in the morning did take some time. She herself had managed to squeeze her daily routine into a mere twenty minutes when pressed, but she knew that some days required a little bit of extra pampering. Days like today would fit that description. The first day of a new school year was one of the few days a year that she would spare a few more minutes to get ready. She would throw aside her usual sweatpants and t-shirts in favor of something dressier, something that imbibed her excitement at the thought of seeing her friends and anticipating what the new year would bring. Her enthusiasm faded quickly, but it was always fun while it lasted. She could handle showing genuine happiness about school for one day.
Well, she could possible manage it if her good mood wasn't ruined before she even left the house. The looming cloud of annoyance that hung over her only worsened as she marched down the hallway towards the source of her frustration. Getting to school on time had always been a struggle, but over the years it had become a nearly impossible task. It wasn't even her fault, despite her general hatred of mornings and everything they stood for. She at least had some sort of hidden internal drive that got her moving, unlike certain other family members that were going to make her late. Again.
She just needed an outlet, she decided. If she wanted to salvage any chance of having a good day, she should find something else to take the brunt of her frustration and stress. That would take the edge off of her sour mood and leave her free to calm down and relax. With that thought in mind, she quickly assessed her closest options and picked the one that would do the most good. The poor bedroom door hadn't really done anything to deserve her wrath, but it still felt good to pummel it with excessive force. It also meant that the person on the other side of that door had no chance of ignoring her.
Of course, stubbornness could always outweigh logic in these types of situations. She waited a few moments to see if her first attack on the door had had any effect, but no movement could be heard through the thin, now slightly battered, wood. So much for finding an outlet. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself before resuming her attacks on the door with vigor. "Nico!"
Her efforts were rewarded with a slight sound, one that she almost missed through her last few blows to the once strong wooden barrier. The light tapping of something small hitting the aged hardwood floor was followed by the groan of shifting springs and an unintelligible mumble. She pressed her ear to the door, hoping that these noises would be followed by a slow crescendo of light footsteps and the sharp click of a lock, something that acknowledged her presence and moved her morning forward. Instead, she was greeted with silence.
Fine. If he wanted to be a pain, then he couldn't complain when she retaliated in kind. She had already knocked twice. That constituted as a fair warning. She knew that she probably shouldn't be so angry and forceful, but she had already used her spare key to unlock the door and swung it open hard enough to shake clumps of dust from the door frame. Too late to be having second thoughts now.
Her grand entrance was met with an indignant shout that quickly morphed into loud, continuous swearing. Nico had obviously not expected her to give up on him so soon and was caught off guard. He flailed in surprise, his gangly arms connecting with a worn shoe box on his bed. It's fall ended shortly as it made contact with the floor, resulting in a small explosion of markers and felt-tipped pens that scattered across the room with a loud crash.
The flurry of noise and movement finally settled, leaving a tense, shocked atmosphere that was more suited for a disaster zone than a teenager's bedroom. The art supplies littered almost every previously clean spot on the floor, the shiny black plastic tubes swarming the room in a dark reminder of mistakes that had been made by both parties involved. Bianca viewed the damage with a gnawing sense of guilt before settling her gaze on her little brother.
Nico was assessing the damage with an expression of dismay and disappointment. His slumped, tired posture sent some of his long, unkempt strands of hair to dangle in front of his face, somewhat obscuring the alarmingly dark circles under his equally dark eyes. His black jeans and t-shirt hung loosely off of his lanky frame and painfully contrasted with the paleness of his skin. The almost sickly pallor of his arms was sporadically covered in faded smudges of black ink, expertly drawn images and words that hadn't quite been scrubbed away. There was a newer drawing on his left forearm where the fresh, dark ink stood out like a beacon. Bianca was about to take a closer look at it when she realized that Nico was now looking at her as well. However, his gaze wasn't a curious once-over or a random glance; it was a glare that promised her imminent demise. "What the hell, Bianca?"
Unfazed by his anger, she crossed her arms and gave him a knowing look with a raised eyebrow. "It's your own fault," she stated accusingly, easily ignoring the fact that her own impatience had played a part in it as well. "Besides, it's probably a good thing. I'm sure your precious soulmate will be ecstatic about going one day without all that crap you draw on his arms."
The smirk that pulled at Nico's lips was enough to tell her that she had, once again, been too slow to prevent that particular disaster. She groaned inwardly and resisted the urge to stalk over and grab his arm to view whatever Nico had decided to decorate his soulmate's skin with. She knew from past experience that that wouldn't go over well. Besides, if she waited, she was sure to get a decent view of the artwork. Instead, she rolled her eyes in exasperation and jerked her head towards the abused door. "Whatever. Let's go. If you make me late today, no one will ever find your body."
Nico grumbled darkly at her murderous intentions. She thought she caught something about her body being the one that goes missing before he slid off the bed and started picking up the scattered markers. When the sea of black finally gave way to faded wood, at least in some spots, he closed the box and chucked it into his backpack.
The room was still a mess, but Bianca's dwindling level of patience had finally run dry. She grabbed her brother's wrist and dragged him out of the room and down the hallway, ignoring the startled yelp that Nico let out as he stumbled after her. This was not the time to be a caring and understanding sister. She was a woman on a mission, and she was not going to let her brother's stupid antics with his soulmate get in the way of showing off how amazing she looked in her outfit.
Besides, it was her duty as a sister to "assist" her brother in sorting out his overly complicated romantic angst. Hiding out in his room and pestering his poor other half with constant doodles and intricately drawn rude messages obviously wasn't getting him anywhere. If he wasn't going to apply himself in this aspect of his life, then she certainly was. She knew that he would thank her for it later.
Maybe… eventually. Her little brother specialized in holding on to grudges out of spite. Oh well. He'd get over it.