South groans dramatically, dragging a hand over her face. "Ugh, it is. This is my fuckin' childhood bedroom. Or, well. Mine and..."

"Drew!" the young South whisper-shouts, perched precariously on the top rung of the ladder and shaking the lump beneath the covers, another head of blonde hair, poking out just beyond them. "Drew! Wake up, idiot!"

'Drew' groans, sleepily dragging his covers tighter around him. "What?"

Younger South shakes him more aggressively. "Fireworks! C'mon!"

It doesn't take a genius to know who it is in the top bunk. You'd have to be pretty goddamn stupid not to guess, really. South's arms fold tight under her chest as she watches, the hand not tucked into the opposite elbow digging its fingers firmly into her bicep.

It's not like it's a bad memory. Just— bitter-fucking-sweet.

"You're gonna hear my real name, or, well, part of it," she says with a sigh.