((A/N: I love Kurt. ^^))
People are often surprised to learn that, out of the two of us, Joe is the obscene one. I guess they just assume that I’m the quiet, angry one, who crushes flowers beneath the sole of his boot and shouts curses when a hammer hits his thumb. Then again, people around here don’t know me all that well. Can’t really blame them.
I was in the front room of the Blacksmith when I heard him yell from the back. I looked up at Grandpa, who had an amused look on his face. “That brother of yours certainly has a mouth on him,” he said in his hoarse smoker’s voice, chuckling amicably.
“Yeah, well, it’s annoying,” I said, turning back to my work. “I’d be able to actually finish building this table if he wasn’t howling every five minutes.” The table, an oak wood, high-gloss, round model, was for Duke’s bar, which was opening at the start of the month. I had a week to build ten tables, and Joe wasn’t making things any easier. “Ugh! I’m never going to finish in time!” I muttered, furiously pounding a nail into the soft, sanded timber.
Joe emerged from the back, rubbing his head with a calloused hand. He was scowling as he stomped over to where I was working and threw his body in a chair I had built earlier, steaming angrily.
“Am I supposed to ask you what’s wrong?” I said, not looking at him as I sanded down a rough part of the slab of wood.
“I hit my head on your stupid bookshelf!” he barked, like I had personally slammed his face into the dark wood.
“Sorry to hear that,” I said absently, bending down to use my power drill. I heard him harrumph, but he was silent after that as he watched me work.
“Don’t you have something to do other than watch me do my job?” I finally asked, annoyed. “You know, like, help me? These tables need to be done in a week.” He continued to sit there lazily—that is, until I whirled around, glaring at him and tilting my hammer at him, like I was going to throw it. That got him up and moving.
We worked in silence, the kind of silence that wraps around you like a blanket and squeezes you tight. I had always been somewhat close to my older brother, but lately, as he became more and more interested in Katie, the waitress who had just moved to Flower Bud Village, he became less and less involved with me. Katie was pretty, I guess---in a sort of tomboyish, annoying way. She reminded me of Joe. But she also reminded me of the fact that, not only did I not have a girlfriend, but also I had managed to alienate nearly every girl in the Village with my standoffishness.
It didn’t really bother me that nearly every person my age was pairing up with significant others around the village. No one in Flower Bud really appealed to me, anyways. Almost everyone was a cheerful optimist, skipping around and being happy all the time. In a way, I envied them and their carefree ways of life. But I’m infinitely more comfortable within the confines of Grandfather’s shop, where any interactions with the villagers was purely business.
It didn’t take long for Joe to break the silence. He screamed out a curse—right in my ear—as he clumsily brought the hammer down on his thumb. I winced as the shriek pierced my eardrum, clapping my hands over my ears to block out the sound of Joe’s sniveling.
”Goddess! That hurt!” Joe exclaimed, still hopping around like a little girl. I glared at him before turning back to the table.
“What? You don’t ever react when you get hurt?” Joe asked, forgetting about his pain to turn his attention to me.
“It’s a Blacksmith, Joe. Not a nursery school,” I scoffed, not meeting his incriminating gaze. “Pain is part of the job.”
“Yeah, but…”
Making a face, I turned away from him. It was quiet again for a while, and I could feel Joe sneaking glances at me as I made it a point to ignore him.
“You’re too chicken too cuss,” I finally heard him say. He said it softly enough to the point where I knew that he wanted me to hear, but not Grandpa. It was a challenge.
I just shook my head, as Joe made a clucking noise at me, disguising it with the heavy whirr of the power drill.
“Why is it so important to you that I curse?” I asked, pushing a loose piece of hair out of my eyes and tucking it into my headband.
“Because I know you’re not going to, Kurt the Mighty,” Joe teased, throwing a small, thick block of wood at my head. It connected solidly with my nose, and I could feel Joe flinch. “Oops,” he said, backing away.
“Goddess, Joe!” I yelled, losing my temper. I picked up my hammer and started chasing my older brother through the workbenches. Behind us, Grandpa cleared his throat, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing both of our shoulders.
“Hello, there,” he said tightly, looking towards the door. Slowly, Joe and I followed his gaze to see a petite girl, with her hair in pigtails, dressed in a pink vest and short shorts. She was about my age, and her deep brown eyes were staring. Directly at me.
“Oops,” Joe repeated.
((Not very happy with this one... :/ I thought of the idea last night, and just finished typing it like five minutes ago. XD))
