Fancy seeing you here? I'm back with another chapter! As always I don't own anything only my OC, enjoy..

Chapter 3

Brian

In the Johnson household, Brian was woken up by his mother opening the curtains, without even glancing in his direction before striding out the room to help his little sister get dressed. Any sting he should have felt from being ignored by his mother was nullified by how overwhelmingly tired he was and how worried he was about today's detention.

Glancing over to his alarm clock he saw that it was still five minutes before his actual alarm was set. Turning over he looked around his room and was saddened by what he saw, it was so lifeless. Like something out of a magazine, immaculate, with rows upon rows of books all in alphabetical order. His desk neatly organise with finished homework and test papers, but the thing he hated most was the matching curtains and bedspread. Orange and yellow checked curtains, his mother had chosen them, told him they would 'brighten up the place.'

Looking down at himself he realised even his pyjamas had been selected by his mother, now that really was sad. Heaving himself up he wandered over to his bathroom, glancing in he glared at the orange bath mat on the floor, why did his mother have his assumption that he liked orange? Maybe this was some sort of psychological punishment.

Sighing he went into the bathroom and ran through his normal routine. Before methodically selecting clothes which would gain him the least amount of attention in any room. Glancing in the mirror he turned away in disgust, what he saw there wasn't Brian Johnson, it was Mr & Mrs Johnson's top of the class, straight A son and he hated himself.

Andrew

Much like in the Johnson household alarm clocks weren't need or necessary, they were simply there to pretend normality to any outsiders that visited. At 5:30 sharp Andrew Clarke was woken up by his father for his morning run and drills. The morning schedule was the same every day since he had started wrestling, which was practically since his whole life. As long as he'd been wrestling there had been morning drills. Wake up, 5 minute shower, run, drills and then a pep talk from his father which could last anything from 2 to 45 minutes. To Andrew the morning schedule all blurred into one long episode of bitter wind, being yelling at and disappointment. The disappointment was always there, omnipresent, looming, however that particular morning it was brought to the forefront of his mind especially prevalent when every his father sighed, or his eyebrows furrowed in an aggravated frown.

In good tradition the only 'good morning' Andrew really got from his father was a heavy thwack on the back and a muffled 'good session, much to be improved to win...' The rest of his family where the exact opposites; his siblings seemingly always stowed away in their rooms, working on projects with muted bangs, crashes and swears coming from behind closed doors. Never leaving their rooms except for meals, lest they had to face their father and his disappointment in their existence.

His mother moved like a wraith around the house, cooking and cleaning; the perfect housewife but silent and cold, with judging, suspicious eyes. She regarded her children with vigilance as if the moment she turned her back they would steal something and make a break for the open road. This accusing stare may have been deserved as Andrew remembered being 6 and stealing from the cookie jar and being caught shortly afterwards, his mother never had trusted him quite the same since.

Overlaying everything was a healthy serving of tension and stress, blanking out and hushing conversations throughout the house. Whenever Andrew lay still and quiet for long enough he could almost place a sound to the tension, a high pitched whining noise which could be heard from every corner of the house. Strangely the house was never exactly quiet, the whining always intermingled with the crashing of dishes or the rustling of a paper as if everything the Clarkes did was inlayed with anxiety and wariness.

Going to school every morning was almost a relief for Andrew, the loud halls and excitable students temporarily replacing his tense home life. For a few brief hours Andrew could intermingle with students and become the 'jock' that everyone deemed him to be. For a short moment in time Andrew could be 'normal'.

Hey people how was that? I have to admit this is a chapter that I struggled with a lot, I find Andrew particularly hard to write as I don't know anyone like him or with his mind set! I hope he didn't get too OOC, anyway tried my best, till next time Stele.