Chapter Title: The Quiet Chaos of Us
POV: Aiden Lantel (15 years old)
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Being fifteen was weird.
You're old enough to know what heartbreak feels like — even if it's just your favorite series ending or your sister stealing your last slice of pizza — but not quite old enough to be taken seriously. Especially not in the Lantel household.
"Alina!" I yelled from my room, struggling to find the hoodie I know I left on the back of the chair. "Did you take my hoodie again?"
No response.
Typical.
I walked down the hall barefoot, grumbling under my breath. The walls were lined with framed family photos — Mom laughing while holding both of us as babies, Dad asleep with a pacifier stuck in his hair, twin birthday parties, first lost tooth moments. We were a loud, close, borderline chaotic family, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.
The smell of bacon hit me first as I stepped into the kitchen. Mom was at the stove, flipping pancakes with her usual grace, despite the mess.
She wore one of Dad's oversized shirts and fuzzy socks, her dark curls piled on top of her head. She turned to me with that familiar look — one part amusement, two parts exasperation.
"Good morning, grump."
"Alina stole my hoodie," I said, yawning.
"She says it's hers now," Mom said with a shrug, flipping a pancake. "Because, and I quote, 'It smells like safety.'"
"That's creepy."
"It's twin logic," came Alina's voice behind me as she sauntered into the kitchen wearing — yes — my hoodie. "You wouldn't understand."
"I'm literally your twin."
"Exactly. Which makes it mine too."
Before I could argue, Dad walked in from the home gym, towel slung over his shoulder, sweaty and smiling. Ethan Lantel was ridiculously fit for someone his age — which made it nearly impossible to win any physical argument with him. He grinned at us, kissed Mom on the cheek, and opened the fridge.
"What's today's drama?" he asked casually.
"Alina's a thief," I muttered.
"Your son's dramatic," she countered.
Dad chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Sounds like a typical Tuesday."
We all sat down together at the island counter. Mom slid a plate of pancakes in front of each of us and filled our cups with orange juice. Breakfast with all four of us was rare these days — Alina had dance rehearsals, I had club meetings, Dad traveled often, and Mom had a million and one charity projects.
But today felt... different. Peaceful.
"Guess what?" Mom said as she joined us at the table.
"We're finally getting a puppy?" I asked hopefully.
"No."
"We're getting a new car?"
"No."
"We're getting a sibling?" Alina asked, eyes wide.
Dad choked on his juice, and Mom nearly dropped her fork.
"No!" she laughed. "Absolutely not. One surprise pregnancy is enough for a lifetime, thank you."
I exchanged a smirk with Alina. We were apparently the result of a "honeymoon surprise." They never said it outright, but the timeline was suspicious.
"What I was going to say," Mom continued, "is we're going on a weekend family trip. Just the four of us."
"Where?" Alina and I asked in unison.
"The lake house," Dad said. "Haven't been there in over a year."
My eyes lit up. I loved the lake house — fresh air, late night bonfires, and no Wi-Fi. Well, I hated the no Wi-Fi part, but everything else made it worth it.
"We leave Friday morning," Dad added. "Pack light. And no, Aiden, you can't bring your PlayStation."
I groaned. "You're ruining my life."
"You'll survive."
Alina leaned her head on Mom's shoulder, smiling. "Can we have a bonfire and make s'mores?"
"Absolutely," Dad said. "And you and your brother can go canoeing."
I glanced at my sister. "Only if she doesn't try to drown me again."
"That was one time," she said, dramatically offended. "And it was an accident!"
Mom laughed, resting her head against Dad's arm. "God, you two keep us young."
"No," Dad said, sipping his coffee. "You two age us ten years every birthday."
Despite the teasing, I could feel the warmth between us — not just from the pancakes, but from the way our family just... worked. Even in the bickering and chaos, it was solid. Real.
After breakfast, Alina disappeared into her room — probably to steal more of my clothes — and Dad went back to his office to finish emails. Mom stayed in the kitchen, humming softly as she cleaned up.
I lingered.
"Hey, Mom?"
She looked up. "Hmm?"
"Thanks. For… this. For still doing breakfast and stuff. I know we're older and busy and probably exhausting."
Her eyes softened. "You and your sister are the best things that ever happened to me."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Even when we argue over hoodies?"
"Especially then," she said with a smile.
Later that evening, after dinner and homework and another round of hoodie negotiations, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. My room was filled with posters, sketchbooks, and random tech I took apart just to see how it worked.
But what grounded me most wasn't any of that — it was knowing that outside this room were three people who made my life whole. A sister who annoyed me and understood me better than anyone. A mom who made chaos feel like comfort. And a dad who showed up every single time.
Family wasn't always perfect. But ours?
Ours was the kind of messy, loud, beautiful that made everything else worth it.
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