[ WP ] Two brothers are musicians , are told to follow their dreams . One quits and gets a real job , the other follows his dreams . The one who follows his dreams , fails .

On the couch rolled in a blanket, Curtis had finally fallen asleep. It was his second night sleeping in a new house and the humiliation always bore heavy on his mind before he fell asleep. 
 
 `` You think he'll be here for long?'' Marilyn asked, whispering from inside the kitchen. 
 
 `` I do n't know, he does n't have any real job experience. We'll see.'' Owen replied as he closed the refrigerator. 
 
 `` You ca n't be this cold about it, brother or not, we have someone else in the house with us! It's really killing my vibe.'' Marilyn replied with a puppy face on and her arms crossed. 
 
 `` Sorry Mar, I'll tell him to sleep on the gravel outside from now on.'' Owen said sarcastically as he drank straight from the milk carton. 
 
 `` Oh hey, sorry to interrupt you. Was just heading out for a smoke, no need to think of me.'' Curtis says as he slowly walks between them to the backyard. His demeanor as broken as ever. 
 
 `` I'll come with ya. I could use a smoke before bed.'' Owen replied as he put his arm around his little brother. 
 
 They both step outside to the chilling air, Curtis lighting a cigarette for Owen out of courtesy. They both stand on the patio safe from the snow falling on them. The snow had already piled up on the fountain in the backyard, creating a beautifully clean sight. 
 
 `` It's alright baby bro, you always have the next show.'' Owen said, his voice holding little conviction and tremendous sympathy. 
 
 `` Yeah, getting evicted and sleeping here, worrying about the next show. I performed at three open Wings restaurants in the last month.'' Curtis said, his mellifluous voice replying with as much frigidness as the winter air held. 
 
 `` You *could* always get a real job.'' Owen replied. 
 
 `` I put in three times the work hours you do.'' Curtis shot back. 
 
 `` For no one to notice.'' Owen replied, harsh but truthful. He takes an inhale from his cigarette to pause and think before looking at his little brother, beard a mess and hair drooping over his face. 
 
 `` How was that last mixtape of yours? *Revolution of voice*, you called it? You got what, 55 downloads? 4 likes and a single review asking you for your recording software?'' Owen asked, at this point, he really is rubbing it in. It's hard not to look for satisfaction when you find others in your shoes. 
 
 `` I got 55 downloads and 4,500 plays. 20 likes as of yesterday and 200 mentions. I'm living the dream. What does John Newman have that I do n't?'' Curtis asked, trying to crack a smile. 
 
 `` Talent.'' Owen replied solemnly. 
 
 `` A team behind him making him sound good is n't talent, it's money.'' Curtis' tone was getting more irritated by the second. 
 
 `` He has that money because he's talented, you just sound jealous now.'' Owen replied, hoping to tell his brother what no one would tell him. Not his ex-girlfriend before leaving him, not their mother who has never heard his music, and not his alcoholic friends. 
 
 `` You ca n't say that because you quit the life so easily. It's unfair, Owen. It's bullshit, pardon my language.'' Curtis replied, his frustration festering into tears swelling in his eyes. 
 
 `` Look Curt, I quit because it was n't for me. I quit because I wanted my family to live nicely. I stopped chasing dreams and chased results. You think you can park an Infiniti in the driveway with free wings? Music is a dream they teach the failing kids in school, and the only stories you hear are by the 0.1 % that succeeded. Not the millions of others on their asses, just like you. Music is bullshit. Writing is bullshit. No one cares about the work you put in and no one wants to read the bullshit you come up with. There's no point in working so hard on such a selfish mistress.'' Owen said, packing his words into a verbal punch that hit Curtis right in the gut. No matter how many times he had thought these words, hearing them tied his stomach into knots. He paused for a few seconds and stuttered trying to speak after. 
 
 `` Maybe... May-be, you're right. I do n't know.'' Curtis said, literally shrugging trying to come up with an answer. 
 
 `` Of course I'm right. We'll get you a job at the firm, security for a few weeks before we can find a good role for you. Leave it to me and go back to sleep.'' He said before kissing Curtis on the head. Curtis nodded and walked back to the living room dragging his feet behind him, the blanket he had rolled around him lagging behind. 
 
 Owen finished his cigarette and stood on the patio for a few seconds, deep in thought. Flicking his cigarette eventually and turning back inside. 
 
 He walked up to the attic, his slippers making the same *tack* as they always did. Once he reaches, he crouches next to the old dresser, reaching in and taking out a notebook hidden from behind. He skipped past many pages before finding the page he last worked on. He slumped into a seated position and had a silly smile on his face next to the window in the dead of a winter night. He hummed out a tune while he read it. Thinking to himself that he really missed writing his latest song since he has n't been able to write for two days, being a hypocrite and all.
