Work Text:
Abby gets the assignment last period, right before the bell. Mrs Kline hands out the worksheets with the kind of smile that means this involves feelings. “For tomorrow” the teacher says, tapping the board, “I want you to write a short paragraph called ‘Who Lives in My House’. You can add drawings and photos if you want, make it creative!” That part gets Abby’s attention. She looks down at the page and is sure she can do that.
At home, Mike is making spaghetti. Real spaghetti, which means he’s relaxed enough to hum badly to the radio. Abby sits at the kitchen table, paper spread out, crayons lined up like she’s planning something important.“Homework?” Mike asks, peeking over. “Yeah” Abby says “But it’s easy.” He leans in anyway “What is it?” tone curious “I have to write who lives here.” Mike wipes his hands on a towel and leans over her shoulder. “Okay, so… you.”
“Obviously.”
“Me.”
“Obviously.”
“Uh…” He thinks for a second, playful. “The ghost in the hallway?” Abby smiles despite herself “Be serious.” He taps the table. “Alright, alright, so it’s you and me… and maybe add that we have a very aggressive smoke detector.” Abby giggles and starts writing.
I live in a house with my older bother, Mike.
She adds another sentence.
It is not very big but it is warm.
Mike watches, arms crossed loosely “That’s a good description.” She nods, pleased, and keeps going.
My brother makes the best dinners, watches movies with me all the time and we also draw a lot together.
She stops, tapping the pencil against the paper. Mike waits. After a second, she shrugs and says “I think that’s all.” He ruffles her hair “Looks perfect, Abs.” She doesn’t answer. Just slides the paper into her backpack.
Later that night, Abby is supposed to be asleep. She is not. She sits on her bed with the lamp on low, worksheet pulled back out. She reads it again. It feels… unfinished. She grabs a crayon. First, she draws stick figures. One tall, one shorter and a small one in the middle. She colors the shorter one green, the small one pink and the tall one—she pauses, then picks purple. She labels them carefully.
Mike
Me
Michael
Then she goes back to the writing and adds one more paragraph underneath, her letters a little messier now, but determined.
Michael doesn’t sleep here but he helps me with homework, plays with me and keeps us safe. I like when he is here, he’s my family too.
She looks at the drawing again, satisfied, and finally turns off the light.
Mike finds the paper the next morning. It slips out of Abby’s backpack while he’s checking for her lunch, landing face-up on the counter. He bends to pick it up and freezes. He reads it once. Then again. His eyes stop on the drawing, on the three stick figures standing close together, smiling. Mike swallows hard, folds the paper carefully, and puts it back like it’s something important. Something fragile. He doesn’t say anything when Abby comes running in, shoes half on, asking if they’re late.
“Nope” he says, voice steady. “We’re good.”
Michael sees it that same afternoon. He’s over because Abby asked if he could help her study and because Mike didn’t even pretend not to want him there. Abby hands him the worksheet proudly “I added a drawing.” Michael crouches to her level and reads slowly. When he reaches the bottom, he stops. Looks at the picture. Then looks up at Abby, eyes soft in a way that surprises even him.
“You drew me” he says quietly. Abby nods. “You’re in the house, you’re family too!” Mike shifts nearby, nervous. “She just—” Abby rocks on her heels. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah” he says “That’s more than okay.” Mike clears his throat. “You don’t need—“ Michael reaches back without looking and laces his fingers briefly with Mike’s wrist. Grounding. Sure. “She’s right” he says gently. Abby beams. “Can I put it on the fridge?” she asks. Mike nods immediately “Absolutely.” She runs off to grab a magnet. Michael stays where he is for a second longer, then looks up at Mike, eyes warm and a little stunned. “You’re doing a good job” he says quietly. Mike exhales, something like a laugh stuck in his throat. “Yeah?” Michael nods softly “Yeah.”
The paper goes up on the fridge crookedly, held by a cartoon foxy magnet. Abby steps back to admire it. Mike and Michael stand behind her, close without thinking about it, shoulders brushing. Abby smiles at them, she knows all families are diferente, she just specifically loves hers, and, a lot more when it’s complete like this.