Our little princess.
That's what everyone calls you. Daddy. Mama (sometimes). Even Onii-chan.
It never bothers you. Heck, if anything, you enjoy the attention that title brings, mostly because it's true. At five years old, you're the baby of the family, the one that everybody—your family, the neighbors, even the local police officer—fawns over and protects.
That seems pretty princess-y if they ask you.
Yeah, you don't always get what you want because your family is always tight on cash, which means your parents don't have much time for you because they need to work, but that's okay, Mama tells you, because that doesn't mean we don't love you.
And you believe her, just like you believe the way Daddy tucks you in and kisses your forehead goodnight and how Angus lets you sneak into his room when you get scared so you can lay under the covers together, discerning constellations until you both fall asleep.
You also believe your parents when you ask them if they love Angus the same way and they say yes. And Angus, who is a good big brother to you, deserves that. Because that's what Daddies and Mamas are supposed to do anyway: love all their kids.
Yours just seem to show how they feel differently with him: how curt Mama sometimes gets with Angus or doesn't smile as much at him, how Daddy sometimes shoves him or raises his voice a bit whenever Angus makes one little mistake.
That's just them being tough on him. A lot of parents do that, right?
Right?
