Tim impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for the Chronivac app on his computer to download. His Dad banged on his door and yelled, "Tim! Get out and help us pack! The first floor is already in the trucks!" This had been the 4th time that his Dad called on him today, and he was either going to call on him 4 more times or break the door down. Tim was not leaving this room until he tested this "State of the Art Reality Rearranger". The actual chance that this thing worked was slim, but he would rather get in trouble than pass up the chance to stay.
Contrary to what Michael thought, Tim did have an irl friend. For over a year, he had gotten in touch with their reclusive neighbor, Chuck Taylor. He had picked up the phone on a day everyone who would warn him was out, and Chuck took advantage of the opportunity. The predator had twisted the story around, and made himself an innocent victim to Michael's irrational hatred. While they haven't gotten to the step Chuck had been craving for, they were at a point where Tim was willing to risk punishment from his Dad to keep in touch with Chuck.
This fear was all in his head of course; if Michael ever did find out that Chuck was turning his barely legal son away from his family, he would calmly sit Tim down and explain the whole situation. Afterwards, he would go over to Chuck's House and make whatever room he was in look like a horror movie. Alas, he didn't know, and in a couple of minutes, he would never know. For now, Michael tried to open Tim's door with a coin from the hall's drawer.
The coin was rather large for the lock, and rather small for his hands, but a slow and methodical twist was soon met with a click. The moment the he threw the door open, and electric shock ran through his body. He took a glance at the door, guessing it was from the metal knob, and turned towards his son. 45 year-old man and 18 year-old teen stared each other, doing nothing but blink for a moment. The silence was broken by occaisonal eye squishes, and the squishes broken by Michael saying, "Why... Why did I open your door like that?"
"I dunno."
"Hmph, weird. Not like me to get that angry. Not that I'm angry right now, just... well wait, am I angry?"
"...If you have to ask, then no?"
"Huh..." Michael thought about the logic for a second... before ignoring it in favor of serene bliss, "Alright, sounds cool. I'm going to go ahead and pack your clothes then-"
"No, wait! Stop!"
"Hey hey hey, chill Lil' Tim. It's all good. I'll go ahead and pack up the hall then. I'll tell Jake and Mark to save your room for last. Sound good?"
"U-Umm... Yes?"
"Great. Have fun Lil' Dude!" finished the ever mellow Michael, before silently shutting Tim's door.
Michael put the coin in his hand back into the drawer and moved it out to the center. He thought about why he had the coin out at all, but decided it didn't really matter. Just as he finished, he saw his other boys come up the stairs, ready to... to... What were they doing?
Michael didn't want to embarrass himself in front of his boys, less than he already did with Tim, so he waited for them to say something. Jake and Mark both stared at him in confusion, but Chuck was the only one of the three to say something. "What are you doing with the table, Daddy?"
Michael didn't know why Chuck still called him Daddy, but it wasn't a big deal. What was a big deal was Mark smacking Chuck upside the head for it. He tried to defuse the situation as quick as he can.
"Heyyy, why'd you do that for?"
"He's 18 Dad. You need to tell him to stop."
"Wh-Where's the harm? I'm not hurt by it, he's not hurt by it, and you aren't hurt by it."
Rather than try and refute any part of the faulty argument, Mark just rolled his eyes and said, "Whatever, Mike."
Jacob - now called Jake by his Dad - knew he wouldn't care about the verbal disrespect, but he thought it best to change the subject anyway. "Chuck is right Dad. What are you doing with the furniture?"
Michael bit his lip and looked at Mark; maybe he would be the one who actually knew? Unfortunately, he just gave a shrug that said, "Why do you think I'd know?"
"Ahh . . . I'm just redecorating a bit. Thinking this would look better on the other wall. Thoughts?"
All of his sons (barring Tim of course) couldn't care less, although Jake pointed out that he would have to turn the drawer, and that the hall wasn't spacious enough for that.
With nothing left to talk about, the 4 Wilson men all went to their separate rooms. As Chuck - called Chuckie by no one but himself - walked into his and his identical twin brother's shared room. Even though they were physically alike, Chuck's risqué and revealing clothes were the direct opposite of Tim's hoodies and harem pants. Tim, ever the shy dork, was typing away at his computer, something Chuck was uninterested in.