California Code Candy

おまけ – Extra

"So, how did all of you get involved with Code Candy?" Machiko asks curiously. The question has been getting to her for a while; they've just finished a show in New Zealand, and it seems like an appropriate time to ask.

All four boys exchange a glance, but say nothing.

Mark

Slowly, he sits up and yawns. It is one in the afternoon; the sun is shining, the birds are singing...

And Mark is hungover. Big time.

The sudden realization of gravity sends his head spinning, but it isn't anything he can't deal with. Mark ruffles his short brown hair and massages his head a bit as he gets out of bed. Shower. Food. Yeah, that sounds good. His stomach isn't rebelling at the idea of pancakes, so he decides that that will be the first thing he should do when he is clean.

If his mom notices that he smells of alcohol, he is going to be dead. No questions asked, she will find the shotgun and kill him.

He grins despite himself as he remembers the night before. His team completely trounced the top football team in the league, fifty-three to twenty-four. As the star quarterback, he has a lot of pride in his abilities. Even though his team hadn't qualified for the National matches, he's still glowing with pride. After the game, the entire team had gone out to a diner - that was the story they all agreed to tell, and it was the truth, but they weren't going to mention what happened after the diner.

Mark loves that he has a girlfriend who is old enough to buy alcohol. Technically, their relationship is illegal since he won't be eighteen for almost another year, but it's fine.

He tucks into his pancakes with gusto. His mom is a bad cook, so he tried to learn how to do it properly as a kid. He's not great, but he can make basic things like pasta, pancakes, and mashed potatoes, which is more than she can. His dad can barely make a sandwich by himself, so it usually ends up being Mark and his little sister, Chloe, who make dinner.

The front door opens and slams shut. "Is that you, Mark?" Mark flinches ever so slightly at the loud noise of his mother shouting from the next room and swallows his food.

"Yeah, Mom," he says in a quieter tone than her. Really, the walls aren't soundproof, she didn't have to shout. "I'm in the kitchen."

He hears the clack of her heels on the wooden floors before she reaches the kitchen. She's a short, stocky woman with dirty-blond hair in a bob-cut and green eyes. Mark has always thought of her as having the epitome of a "mom look".

"Honey, you're eating pancakes for lunch? You really should save breakfast food for breakfast time," she sighs. Mark doesn't bother telling her that he hasn't even been out of bed for an hour, since she doesn't know he got home after four am. "Are you doing anything the rest of the day? You father hasn't taken care of the gutters yet, and -"

"Sorry, no can do," Mark defends quickly. "I have my audition in two hours, remember?"

A big entertainment company based in LA is having auditions of a band they are putting together. Mark had signed up for a drummer audition slot; sure, he likes football, but if he can make it big in a band then he would have to worry about broken limbs as often. Also, after high school his opponents will become bigger and bulkier, and Mark is a pretty small guy, even though he has a good throwing arm.

His mother sighs again. "Alright, if that's what you want," she walks over and ruffles his still-damp hair before giving him a kiss on the forehead; most guys his age would be embarrassed, but Mark isn't. Maybe it's because he's used to it. "You really should shower earlier in the day."

Mark made a noncommittal "hmm" and went back to his food. Despite her earlier comments, his mother starts making more pancakes from the batter that remains in the bowl. It won't be lumpy or full of dry pancake-powder like the ones she usually makes since Mark mixed it. She claims it happens because her arms get tired, something much more difficult for Mark who has played football and drums since he was in middle school.

On his way out of the house, Mark grabs his PSP to keep himself occupied during the bus ride. His mp3 player plays some eighties music that he has grown up listening to, and he's barely aware when the bus halts two blocks away from the studio that he's supposed to audition in. The PSP goes into one of the pockets of his cargo pants with his mp3 player, and he slings the headphones around his neck.

Soon, he arrives at the building. There are a lot of guys his age in the lobby, some college age or older, and a few can't be more than high school freshmen. As a senior, he can't help but scoff a bit. He's signed in soon and due to a lack of chairs has to wait standing against the wall. He doesn't want to miss his name getting called, so he plays his PSP without listening to any music.

"Hey, kid," Mark glances up out of habit and is surprised to find there is a man in a suit in front of him, kind of pudgy but really straight-laced. Rather than reply, Mark hums in response. "Are you auditioning?" A nod and a barely fought of yawn. "What for?"

"Drums and bass," replies the teen. It's noisy in the hall, and the vestiges of his hangover aren't happy, but they're barely there anyway.

"You play both?" The man seems surprised.

"'Course not," Mark grins. "I'm auditioning for drum and bass vocals. My fingers are too twitchy for string instruments." That was what his teachers had always told his parents when they tried to get him to pick up more "respectable" instruments, like violin, piano, or even guitar. Drums, they said, are too loud and clumsy, but eventually they paid to soundproof the basement for him anyway.

"Name?" He is obviously surprised at hearing Mark - who looks a bit younger than he is and who is rather small - sings bass, but he says nothing on the matter.

"Mark Pool. I'm registered for my audition in," he glances at the clock on his screen, "twenty minutes."

"You've been bumped up in the queue," says the man in the suit. "Come on."

Curious, Mark decided to follow. The man flashed a card to one of the guards outside the lift - they were there to make sure no one jumped the queue - and he was able to take Mark up to the audition floor without any trouble. Mark was getting very curious now; why had he been allowed to go early? This guyy had just come up to him - and him specifically - and asked him a few questions before saying he was going early.

So weird.

Mark was led to the audition room, and the man followed him in before sitting at a table with four other suited gentlemen. In front of the table sat a variety of instruments, from electric violin to a grand piano, keyboard to tuba, conga drums to a flute. It was ridiculous; they were trying to make a pop band; surely they weren't expecting people to play a french horn!

"So, Mark Pool you said?" Mark glanced at the man who had led him in; apparently he was part of the board. He was pulling an appliation out of the stack, and Mark could still see his head shot on te front. "How do you feel about Code Candy?"

That... caught him off guard. "Uh... what?" Mark blinked over at the men.

"Code Candy is going to be the name of the boy band we're putting together," another of the men said. There was a little plaque in front of his that said "Aaron Knutsen", though Mark wouldn't dare attempt to pronounce the surname. "What do you think of it? Why did you sign up for an audition?"

"Didn't I put that in my application?" Mark lifted an eyebrow, but decided to respond anyway. "I'm very good at three things: football, music, and video games. Only, I'm not going to stand-out to colleges in football compared to other guys since and video games won't lead to any future, but music... I can see myself still playing drums, even if it's just on my free time, 'til I'm too old to hold the sticks properly. As for Code Candy... it's a dumb name, but not any worse than 'Backstreet Boys.'"

"Let's start the audition then," a third man said. "Pick your instrument."

So he showed them his skill with drums: rhythm, tempo, and beat changing to suit their requests. They had him mimic some of the beats they played from a cd player and create drum lines for music that had only guitar or piano. Considering the auditions weren't supposed to be more than ten minutes and Mark was tripling that just in his playing portion, he figured they liked him.

He floored them with his singing portion; maybe they didn't believe it when his application said "bass" for vocals. One of them mentioned something about dogs meowing (1), but after that it was a blur. Mark was immediately accepted as the first member of Code Candy.

He arrived home that night feeling very satisfied.

Ben

"You should really get out of the house."

Ben hums a noncommittal reply. He is laying full length on the leather couch his father bought recently, the flat plasma screen on the wall showing some cartoon that he doesn't really care about, but his siblings love it, so he stays quiet. His younger siblings - two boys and three girls, aged three to fourteen - are sitting on the floor watching the show with avid fascination. The oldest, a fourteen year old girl, is painting her toe-nails and pretends not to watch.

"Maybe you should get a job," his mother continues, as if Ben hadn't replied. "You're going to be eighteen in a few months, don't most of your classmates have jobs by now? And you'll be staring college in less than a year..."

"Won't a job distract me from studying?" Ben asks calmly as his brothers and sisters - including the supposedly uninterested high school freshman - all gasp at some twist that Ben hadn't really been paying attention too. Some Star Wars knock-off punchline.

"You don't study anyway," his mother waves off the question. It's true enough; Ben feels he doesn't need to study, and he manages a 3.8 GPA, so there's no problem. He could do better, but there's no point. "James had a job when he was still a Sophomore, remember?"

"Yes, pumping gas must have been a dream," Ben rolled his eyes. He's the second of seven children; his older brother James is currently an officer in the army and stationed with a rather cozy base in Germany. No chance of getting involved in the war. He glances away from the screen and sees the annoyed look on his mother's face. "Alright, fine, I'll look for a job. Though you shouldn't expect anything; most places don't hire between Black Friday and New Year, right? Will that make you happy?"

"Very," Ben's mother meets him with equal sarcasm, one black eyebrow arched finely at him.

He returns his attention to the television.

A few days later, Ben returns from school and sits down in front of the television. He has already finished his homework in class, since multitasking at home would be too much of a bother. Most of his younger siblings are out of the house, visiting Santa with his mother. The third child in the family, his sister Samantha, has already flicked the tv on to a reality show before turning to her math homework.

Ben twitches slightly, but says nothing. He hates reality television. He could go to his room and watch shows on his computer, but he also doesn't want to get up from the couch. It could be worse though; at least it's not that weight-loss show or a dating program.

Samantha gets his help on a few of her math problems before the first commercial break.

A drum beat draws Ben's attention, and he looks up. A fit teenager with short brown hair and blue eyes is on the screen, a serious look on his face as he beats at the drum kit in front of him. He obviously knows what he's doing. A voiceover cuts through the drum beat.

"Do you have what it takes to be part of a band? Do you want to be an idol to people all over the world? SteelHand Productions is searching out talented musicians for our new band, Code Candy. All applicants will be looked at thoroughly. For more information visit our wesite at..."

"You could do that," Samantha says suddenly.

"I could, yeah," Ben rolls his eyes at her. He's part of his school's Symphonic Choir, mostly just to fill class slots, but he knows he's good. It was a spot of pride for him, as well as his piano playing. He's taken lessons since he was in elementary school; all of his siblings who are old enough can play an instrument of some sort. His dad had this idea of a family band, but it would never happen. "Doesn't mean I want to."

"Mom wants you to get a job," Sam reminds him. "If you try-out, you can at least tell her that you're making an attempt, right? And you know she won't believe you got turned down right away, so even if you are you'll be in the clear until after Winter Break at least."

Ben is silent for a moment, pensive. A commercial for shampoo goes on in the background. "I guess. Did you catch the url?"

As he asks, Sam rips the bottom of her homework page and hands it to him. "Have fun. If you get famous, I reserve the right to badger you to set me up with a cute bandmate, okay?"

Ben rolls his eyes and goes to his room where his computer waits. He barely escapes the continuation of the reality program.

His audition is on the first day of winter vacation. He takes his truck into LA; he got it for his birthday last year, but he doesn't drive it very often. Finding parking is hell, but he still manages to get to the studio early. Just as he enters, a really pissed-off looking guy exits with a traveller's guitar lung over his shoulder, muttering obscenities under his breath about the agency not knowing talent when they see it.

Ben figures it's because the guy is butt-ugly, but says nothing.

Soon enough, he is led to an audition room. His application put him as a keyboardist and contralto for vocals. He would have put classical piano, but there was no way that a rock band or boy band or whatever this was for would end up using classical instruments; needless to say, Ben was surprised to see a full array of instruments in the ront of the room. A panel of five middle aged men wait for him to enter, and the guy from the commercial is sitting on a stool a bit behind them, playing on a PSP.

"So, Benjamen Loques is it?" One of the panel asks, only looking up from the piece of paper in front of him for a moment. "Let's see, piano and contralto... alright. So, why do you want to be in Code Candy?"

"I'm a good singer and I've been playing piano since I was a kid," Ben shrugs, not sure of what to say. He's not going to lie; he doesn't really want to be famous or anything. "Part of it is pride, I guess. I have a lot of pride in my ability. And my mom wants me to get a job, so I figured I might as well try."

Obviously, this was not the sort of reply the panel expected. They all blinked strangely at him. Well, his reasons weren't the normal ones; most people would either have a shallow reason or they would lie about having a deep reason. Ben's reasons probably didn't make sense to them.

"R-right, well... we're going to do some playback, and you'll play a harmony to the piece on the second go through," another of the men said.

So he dead. Ben listened to the song; he'd played it before, so the harmony wasn't too hard to do. Then he was asked to mimic a piano line from a popular song and finally to play that same song but adjusting the beat to match the playing of the drummer of Code Candy - the boy who had, until that point, been playing video games. Ben was impressed by the variance the other boy put him through, but had no trouble keeping up.

His singing portion came up, and Ben was given a song that fit his range, and he sang it just like he was told to. Then the other guy - Mark - sang something, and Ben had to sing with him on the second go around.

Ben really didn't expect anything to come of this. It was going to be a waste of an afternoon that would make his mother stop haranguing him about getting a job and comparing him to his high school drop-out older brother who somehow was still considered the best member of the family.

"We'd like you to come to all future auditions, Ben so we can make sure that the rest of the band fits with you and Mark. Welcome to Code Candy."

He arrived home that night feeling rather annoyed.

Leo

"Sorry kid; you've got a great voice, but it hasn't got the sound we're looking for," the director apologizes. "With your resume, you should have no problem getting another job though, right?" He scratches his head, and all Leo can do is smile and agree.

This is his third audition in the past week, and so far nothing is working out.

Having graduated high school eight months ago, Leo is scrambling to hold a job. He turned nineteen a bit before Christmas, and over the summer he'd had no trouble finding plays that would take him for a role. He has a pretty good reputation from his high school years, and managed to become an Honor Thespian by the time he was a high school junior.

As soon as his old classmates were going off to college though, Leo found that directors weren't as interested in him. He realized, as the year 2008 started, that he was too bold in thinking that he could make a career as an actor without going to college.

He pulls the cord on the bus and it pulls to a stop a few blocks from his house. The walk home is quiet, and he can't help but be aggravated when he trips on the curb. That might have been part of why the directors didn't like him; he'd grown a couple of inches since summer and is clumsier than ever. He has always been a little clumsy, but it never stopped him from acting before.

"I'm home!" He calls when he enters the classy, but modest, apartment that his family lives in. He kicks off his shoes in the doorway and waves jauntily at his father, who is absorbed with a basketball game on the tv. The man grunts (probably something about how Leo should shave since he's not old enough to have a son with facial hair) and cheers on the winning team; he's not loyal to any one team and just roots for whatever team is winning.

Leo disposes of his jacket in his room after popping into the kitchen to say hello to his mom. He's surprised to find his older sister Janice sitting on his bed and reading an old comic book.

"Hey Leo," Janice doesn't look up from the comic as she says this and instead turns the page. "So, how did today's job search go?"

"Same as yesterday," Leo shrugs. He's the youngest of three. His older sisters Janice and Jessica are identical twins, distinguishable only by their sense of style, and both in their last year of college. They invade his privacy a lot, so he's used to it. "Where's Jess? I thought you were both coming to dinner tonight."

"She's making some last minute plans for the wedding," Janice still doesn't look up. "Apparently the band fell through or something, so she has to find a new one."

Leo nods, even though his sister can't see him, and sits on his desk chair. His electric guitar, the most expensive thing he owns, is set out of the way so he can stretch out his legs in the direction desired; in the process, he knocks down a stale glass of water that has been sitting on his desk for an indeterminable amount of time. A while, judging by the dead fly that was floating in it.

Rather than freak out about it, Leo grabs a towel from his closet and lets it soak up the liquid from the carpet. There's no point going crazy over some spilled water, though his dad would disagree.

"Anyway," Janice suddenly closes the comic and sets it aside, her blue eyes staring suddenly at him from behind blonde bangs, "I found an ad in the paper this morning that I thought you might be interested in. There's a production company putting together a band, and apparently they only have the drummer and keyboardist set."

"A band... oh, I think I saw something about that on tv a couple months ago," Leo furrows his brow, thinking. "The commercial ran for a while. You'd think they would have a full band by now."

"Maybe they're just really choosy," Janice smiles brightly at him, "which makes you a shoe-in, I would think."

Leo isn't impressed... but he's definitely intrigued. "I guess I could look into it."

That night after dinner, he sits at the family computer - an old model from several years ago that runs so slow it moves backwards sometimes - and finds out what he can about this band. His resume is better fit for acting, but he sends it in with his application anyway.

Two days later, on the same day as an audition for a play that he's been intending to try out for, Leo spikes his hair and dresses casually, though he still looks put together. It's a skill he has learned from countless hours in theater, and neither of his sister's refute his fashionability.

His family's apartment building isn't too far out of the middle of LA, but it's far enough that Leo takes the bus. It's cramped and smelly, too warm for February, but he survives. He isn't sure as to whether or not the studio will provide instruments for auditions, so his guitar is in its case on his back; he pays close attention to his surroundings so that it doesn't get stolen.

A greater threat might be him tripping, but Leo ignores that little tidbit.

"Leonard Jacobson, your audition is up!" The lobby is mostly empty when Leo arrives, and he fights the urge to glare at the attendant who calls his name. Leonard. He hates that name. It makes him sound so... not him. Instead of glaring, he nods to the person who called him and approaches the elevator where a sign reads he should go to the third floor. Another guy gets in the elevator behind him; he's about the same age, either in late high school or early college years, with soft brown hair and eyes. Leo takes note of the total "regular neat guy" look around him and figures the guy was probably a National Merit Scholar or something.

"'Scuse me," the guy says. He doesn't bother pressing a button when Leo reaches for the glowing 3 on the panel, so Leo deduces he's going to the same floor. "You're today's audition then."

It takes Leo a moment to realize the guy is talking to him. "Er, yeah," he replies. "I'm trying out for the lead guitar. You?"

"I'm the keyboardist," the guy says. The elevator makes a dinging noise and the doors slide open. Leo steps out behind the other guy - the keyboard player - and follows him to a room where a panel of fine middle aged men in suits are waiting. Seated on the floor behind them is a high school kid playing with a hacky sack.

"Leonard Jacobson?" asks one of the men.

"It's Leo," Leo corrects. If he somehow miraculously makes it into this band, there is no way he's letting his bosses call him Leonard. No way in hell.

"Right, Leo Jacobson," another of the men says. "Let's get started..."

When Leo went home that evening, it was with an elated smile that refused to be wiped off his face, even when Jessica told him he had to wear a pink bow-tie to her wedding.

Luke

"Hey, Byrd, can you help me with this?" Luke twinges at the use of his last name, but acquiesces. He really dislikes his last name, but it seems like he is the exception in the school regarding familiarity; somehow, it's okay for anyone else to be called by their first name by anyone else, but not him. He chalks it up to habit left over from middle school, since high school students are too mature to call him Bird-Boy.

"The important bit of the symbolism is 'white'," Luke informs his classmate when he notices what seems to be confusing. "Which changes to 'black.' This is stuff from freshman year, you have to know basic color symbolism by now."

"Right, innocence and death," the other boy smiles sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm crap at English." Luke mentally noted that this guy was bad at math, science, and everything else too, but doesn't say it out loud.

"The Tutoring Center is closing, so pack up quickly," the attendant for the day informs them as he passes by their table. Luke sighs, happy that the day is over. When his English teacher suggested that he should help out in the tutoring center, he hadn't realized it would be so exasperating. It wasn't too much different from helping out his classmates during class hours, but it was more annoying since in the tutoring center the other students assumed he knew everything.

And he kinda did, but that wasn't the point.

As if on cue, Luke's phone started buzzing in his pocket, and he flipped it open. He didn't need to ask who was on the other end. "Hi Brian," he says without looking at the screen. His older brother is the only person who calls him, generally. Usually his friends just send him text messages, and his parents are so technologically un-savvy that it's a miracle they can turn the computer on.

"Hey Luke, you're home, right?" Brian's nervous voice floats from the other end.

"No, I will be in a few minutes though," Luke informs him. Of course, the teen still has to pack up his things and get out of school and drive home, but he only lives a three minute drive away from the house so it's no big deal. "Why?"

"I left something really important on my desk in my room," Brian laughs slightly, though it was in a "I'm really stupid" manner. "We need it by six... do you think you could drop it off for me? There's no way I could get home in time, and -"

"Sure," Luke tamps down another sigh. He wanted a nice of hour of silence before his brother and parents all returned from work, but apparently it isn't meant to be. There goes his bass practice for the day; his parents can't stand it when he plays while they're home. "I'll be there by six, even if I have to break three different laws to get there. You're on your own beyond that though."

"You're the best! Just give the receptionist your name when you get there, as always."

The phone clicks without so much as a good-bye, and Luke feels a small smile twitch to life on his face. He quashes it though, and makes it out to his car in record time before turning the ignition and driving home. It isn't hard to find his brother's work stuff and he arrives at the SteelHand building within half an hour. Even with the traffic he makes good time.

As usual, he gives the receptionist his name, and she directs him to go to the third floor where she says his brother would be waiting for the materials. It isn't difficult to navigate the halls to the meeting room in question, though when Luke arrives he's rather surprised to see his brother, five middle aged men, and three teenagers in the room. Brian immediately perks up when Luke enters the room, his blond spikes holding stiff even when he whips his head up.

"Luke! You're a life saver!" Brian hugs his brother tightly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there were people around and that Luke, as a living thing (for the moment), requires air. "Can you hang out in here until everything is done for the day? Since my car broke the other day I'd rather not take the bus home. I'll pay for your gas, okay?"

"Sure," Luke puts on a smile and fights the urge to twitch. He hates acting, but he'd rather not give his brother's bosses a bad opinion of him or anything. So he settles in a chair in a corner of the room - there is a strange plethora of instruments in that part - and manages to kill time by playing Pokemon on his DS. The meeting goes for a break at six-thirty, and Luke starts to wonder if it's going to end anytime soon. The teenagers all look like they would have school the next day, though if they're stars of some sort it probably doesn't matter anyway.

"Aw, why didn't you catch it?" Luke jumps in his seat and finds one of the teenagers - a young looking guy with short brown hair and bright blue eyes - is standing over his shoulder, apparently watching him play.

"I've already got one of those," Luke shrugs in response, not giving away any more of his surprise than he already has. "No point in catching it, right?"

"If you say so," the other guy says. "I'm Mark. You're Brian's brother then?"

"Yeah, I'm Luke. Don't believe anything that guy says about me by the way. It's half lies and half things too embarrassing to contemplate."

"So then you can't actually play bass?"

"No, I can," Luke corrected. "I mean things that are either embarrassing or outrageous."

"Oh," Mark paused for a moment, "will you play for me? Ben and Leo are talking about some sitcom that was on recently, but I don't really watch tv much lately, and I'm kinda bored. Please?"

Luke perked an eyebrow. "There's no way you're actually this childish," he stated after a moment.

"Yeah, but I have to practice my role. I'm supposed to be the childish one in the band. You know, the guy that all the fans will want to coddle and imagine themselves going on dates to the carnival with or something. Or that's what your brother said. It's kind of weird to think about going from being a football player to being a pop star though."

"Oh." Luke knew that his brother was the image consultant for a new band that was being made by the company, but he didn't figure that the band would be comprised of guys his own age. "Alright I guess."

It took a moment, but he found a bass guitar in the mess of instruments and played a good bass-line that he had been working on lately, unconsciously humming along as he did so. He felt really self-conscious about doing so in front of someone who he didn't know, but the fact that he would never meet Mark again and that therefore the other teen's opinion had no bearing on him also made it a bit easier.

"Can he sing?"

Luke stopped immediately and almost dropped the guitar. One of the businessmen had asked this of his brother, and it occurred to him that he hadn't heard them entering the room again.

"Beautifully," Brian replied, a not-so-subtle smirk gracing his features.

Somehow, the meeting that was being held was transformed into an audition that Luke had not signed up for. He had to copy bass-lines and, as the band had been meeting played, he had to make up his own bass-line. Then suddenly he was signing and the producers were talking amongst themselves, saying he would be the lead singer his brother was suddenly coming up with ideas on how to make him into a "badboy."

Luke arrived home that night feeling very confused.

Author's Note: Since no one commented on my note last chapter, I asked CluelessRomantic if I should do an omake... ended up getting a yes, so I wrote something to get to know the guys better since I realized that no one has had that opportunity yet. Hopefully they'll be a bit less confusing now! Only snippets of this stuff was ever going to be revealed, but saying it now rather than in a chapter won't make any difference to the plot. Sorry, didn't even start on this until Sunday evening 'cause I've been writing fanfiction and reading manga, and then my mom came to visit (I haven't seen her in months). That, and Ben was being a brat and wouldn't let me write him. m(_ _)m Gomen! I'm still planning on having CCC finished by the end of summer vacation though. (Considering how short it is, that shouldn't be a problem anyway)

Okay, so... I actually have psychological reasoning behind each character. Mark is a semi-spoiled only child, used to all the praise and pressure, so he's pretty balanced. Ben is a middle child, but he grew up with the expectations and pressures of a first born without the perks as well as being spoiled rotten. Leo is the baby of his family with two older sisters who coddle him (and sorta based off of two of my gay friends... even though Leo is straight... hm...). Luke is also a baby of the family, but because of the age gap he's considered an only child anyway, but it's... extra complicated. (Sorry, I enjoyed my Psych class way too much last term...)

Blah, writing in present-tense fails XP

Also, posted the songs that were mentioned last chapter. The title is "Code Candy Songs" (gee, I'm so creative, aren't I?). Oh, and Corselli is making some fanarts for me :D Her drawing of Machiko - the only one I've seen so far - is really good.

(1) Sorry, couldn't resist. This is a reference to Simon on Britain's Got Talent during the audition of Greg Pritchard - a male soprano. His exact words were "It's like a dog meowing. Would I like a dog to meow? I guess."