MY FIRST FIC!!! I DON"T OWN MITM. ITS IN CAPS I KNOW! SO PSYCHED!!

I Think I Like You

"Hey Malcolm."

"Yeah," Malcolm turned to his brother, lying on the bed behind him with a notebook in his hands, "What Reese?"

"Could you help me? With my homework? I have English and we're supposed to write a poem…"

"Since when do you care about homework?"

'No I'd just… I still need to maintain a C average so…"

"I'm busy," Malcolm interrupted Reese, turning back to his work, " besides, you're supposed to write your own poem, with your own emotions and…and feelings," he added, snickering to himself. Reese. Poetry. Feelings. Right. He did not catch the hurt look on Reese's face.

Not knowing why he was feeling suddenly upset, and angry at himself for being so, Reese got up from his bed and, with his notebook, made his way to the kitchen with a grumble. Slamming his notebook onto the dining table, he took out a pen and stared at the empty page before him. Maybe I'll just write a love poem or something. With that thought in mind, he began to write, still mentally beating Malcolm up in his head. Unconsciously, as he thinks about what Malcolm said to him, his pen formed words on paper, ink soaking into the material, bringing sentences to life without even realizing he was doing it.

I know he's smart and all but WHY is it that people seem to like him more than me…he's not really that likeable. He's a total freak, that's what he is. He thinks just because he's smart, everyone else is as dumb as cows and…and algebra.

As he became more and more absorbed with his own thoughts, the pen he was using scribbled across the page faster, completing a one whole stanza before beginning a new one.

I think I like you

But I don't really know

For sure, but I do

Really think I like you

They always say things like 'Oh Malcolm, you're so smart! You're the only chance we've got son. He's gonna be the President someday. Blah blah blah. Doesn't change the fact that he's a stupid idiotic moron who can't even do a chin-up. AND he's a jerk, always laughing at me, getting me into trouble.

Your warm, inviting smile

So sweet, so bright

Like lights in the city

Or Heaven's blinding might

At least I'm better looking than him though. His ears are too small and he looks creepy when he does that thing with his eyes…I think he was trying to look nice or something. Hah, and he's always causing trouble. Trouble that mostly I get the blame for though. How does he do that? I can't seem to do that to him. God, and everyone else it seems, knows I've tried.

Your hesitant touch

Unsure of what to make

Of this boy before you

This boy, whose heart aches…

He should at least listen to me right? I mean, I'm his elder brother. I don't see him calling Francis 'stupid'. Why can't he treat me like he treat Francis? He always listen to Francis, asking him for advice and all. He never ask ME for advice. Useful ones anyway, like how to cook steak or…or how to pulverize Dewey. He never turns to me for help, like he turns to Francis. Why? Francis is always so far away, always getting into trouble here and there. I'm right here? I can help too sometimes. Okay, maybe it's because Francis is smart. And he knows Mom the best among all of us. But still. It won't kill him to ask me for help, instead of just framing me or something like that.

Reese finished his poem and began to read whatever he wrote. He frowned.

"A big fat C if I ever saw one," he muttered, "well at least they'll know I did it on my own."

He closed the notebook and sighed. Something was different and he could feel it. Reese could not shake off a gnawing feeling that was creeping into his heart. He knows it has got something to do with the poem he wrote. Then, in an instant, he shrugged it off. Probably because the last paragraph is so corny. Satisfied with his reasoning, Reese got up and began making himself a sandwich, to reward himself.

And why am I even thinking about him right now? It's not like I care about him that much. He'll always treat me the same way, always calling me 'stupid' and 'jerk'. And he wonders why I always beat him. SOMEONE has to do it. Might as well be me. Besides, if I don't, he'll think I've gone soft and let him do whatever he wants.

…for you, your smile

Your scent, like the sea at night

I really, really like you

Even love you, I just might.

Ok, I'm a total noob at this kinda thing. Sorry if the characters are a bit off…I only like saw the last season and was getting so into it so, naturally, they took it off the air. From where I come from anyway. A big thank-you to Max who helped me register. The poem is written by me and that is just about the only thing I own (shrugs at Malcolm and Reese, "Sorry guys"). Oh, and pls review. My very first fic…and I'm sooo psyched. Should I write more? TELL ME!!!