The next morning was Sunday. Jasper woke up feeling reluctant to leave the old house. The emptiness already pressed on him like a heavy weight. The rooms felt hollow without his grandparents quiet presence. He took a quick bath, dressed in his usual faded clothes, and slung the small school bag over his shoulder. All his life was packed into one worn bag: a few shirts, underwear, the pocket watch, a couple of books, his charger.
He took one last look at the house that would soon be rubble for Ronald's useless sports center. He locked the door and left.
The walk to the bus stop took him ten minutes. Most people needed twenty, but Jasper had long trained himself to move fast. At the stop he flagged a taxi. The driver was an old man with gray hair and a slow smile. Jasper told him he was heading to Newhaven city proper. He had been living on the outskirts, but Kelvin family was closer to school in the urban area.
After bargaining the fare down from twenty dollars to his last ten, and the driver agreeing, he climbed in. The ride was twenty-five minutes long. Walking it would have taken him two hours...
When the door opened, Jasper's eyes locked on Grace: her thin white tank top clung to massive DD+ tits, heavy and round, fat nipples hard and poking straight through the fabric; tight leggings hugged her wide hips and fat juicy ass. She was stunning. It had been so long since they last met, yet she looked even more beautiful—curves fuller, skin glowing brighter.
Grace stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug without hesitation. Jasper's face sank deep into the soft, warm pillow of her massive breasts. The plush flesh pressed firmly against his cheeks and nose, enveloping him in her vanilla scent and body heat.
His mind raced. Don't think like that—she's like family. But the overwhelming softness and pressure made his pulse thunder. He quickly turned his head to the side, forcing his face free before the embrace could turn awkward or inappropriate.
As Grace released him with a gentle smile and stepped back to let him inside, Jasper's gaze lifted—and then he saw Lily standing in the hallway behind her. Stunning and nothing like her twin brother Kelvin: long blonde hair, full pink lips, warm hazel eyes, wearing only a tight singlet hugging her perky C-cup tits with hard nipples poking through, low-rise shorts clinging to her narrow waist, flared hips, and tight rounded ass.
"Hi Jasper," Lily said softly, voice light and welcoming. "Welcome to our house."
"Thanks," Jasper managed, the voice was a little rough.
Then Mr. David appeared from the kitchen. Jasper straightened immediately. "Good afternoon, sir."
"Afternoon," David replied, nodding firmly. "Come inside, son."
As Jasper stepped over the threshold, hurried footsteps thundered down the stairs.
"Is it Jasper?" Kelvin voice rang out.
Jasper turned just in time. Kelvin barreled down the last few steps, grinning wide. "Jasper!! Wassup, bro? I have been expecting you since forever!"
Before Jasper could respond, Kelvin grabbed him in a rough hug, then snatched the school bag from his shoulder and started dragging him toward the stairs. "Come on, let us get you settled in my room first. Dad, Lily, we will be up here!"
Jasper let himself be pulled along, glancing back once at Grace and Lily as they watched with small smiles. The weight of the day shifted slightly toward something that almost felt like home.
Kelvin practically dragged Jasper up the stairs, his grip firm on Jasper's arm, footsteps pounding like he could not wait another second. "Come on, bro. You are going to love this. I have been grinding on the new game all week."
Kelvin dragged Jasper up the stairs, footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. "Come on, bro. Room is this way."
He pushed open the door. The bedroom was modest and lived-in: one single bed pushed against the wall with a rumpled blue comforter, pillows stacked unevenly. A small desk under the window held a laptop, tangled chargers, a few empty soda cans, and scattered notebooks. Posters of football legends—Ronaldo mid-celebration, Messi dribbling—covered the walls, slightly faded. Sneakers kicked into the corner, a threadbare rug in the center. Sunlight slanted through thin curtains, catching dust in the air. Not luxurious, just comfortable and real—exactly the kind of space where two guys could crash and forget the world for a while.
In the corner sat the PS3 hooked to a 32-inch TV, controllers charging on a shelf below a stack of games. FIFA 13 poked out from the pile.
Kelvin flopped onto the bed, grabbing a controller. "Sit on the floor or the chair. Your dad got you this same console when you qualified for school, right? Said you earned it after all that grinding."
Jasper nodded, sinking onto the desk chair. "Yeah. He knew how hard it was to get in." He picked up the second controller. The familiar weight brought back flashes: his dad handing him the box, tired smile, "Play hard, son. Life's tough, but you made it through the door."
Kelvin powered it on. "Manchester United vs Barcelona. Prime era. Pick your team."
Jasper chose United, Rooney and Van Persie up top. Kelvin went Barcelona, Messi leading the line. "Prepare to get schooled, bro."
The game kicked off. Tip-off equivalent: kick-off. Kelvin snatched possession early, Messi dribbling through midfield, one-two with Iniesta, slotted past De Gea. 1-0. "What I thought. Too long away from the sticks."
Jasper gripped tighter. "Watch."
At first, Kelvin dominated—quick passes, tiki-taka overloads, building a 2-0 lead by the 30th minute. "You are rusty, man. Too busy playing nurse for your grandparents."
Jasper stayed quiet, watching. Muscle memory woke up. He dropped deeper, packed the midfield with Scholes and Carrick, forced turnovers. Rooney hold-up play, cross to Van Persie. Header. 2-1.
Kelvin laughed. "Lucky."
They settled into rhythm. The room filled with trash talk and button mashing. Kelvin was sharp, chaining one-twos and skill moves, stretching the lead to 3-1 at halftime. "Still got you."
Jasper adjusted. Second half: he pressed high, won the ball back in dangerous areas. Quick counter—Rooney through ball, Van Persie finish. 3-2. Then a corner, Vidic header. 3-3.
Kelvin leaned forward, sweating. "Okay, now it is getting serious."
Jasper smiled faintly. "Too late."
He switched to counter-attack, exploiting spaces behind Barcelona's high line. Rooney flick-on, Nani sprint, finish. 4-3. Then another: Scholes long ball, Van Persie volley. 5-3.
Kelvin groaned. "How? You were trash at first."
"Practice. And walking two hours to school builds focus."
Kelvin mashed buttons harder. "Rematch. Now."
They played again. And again. Jasper's rust fell away game by game. Kelvin's leads vanished faster each time. Trash talk flew: "You cheating with that press?" "Nah, you just predictable."
Four games in, Kelvin was red-faced, breathing hard. "One more. I got this."
Jasper won 5-2. Kelvin slumped. "How? You were dead at first."
Jasper set his controller down. "You are tired, man. Call it."
"Never." Kelvin started another.
The door swung open without a knock. Lily leaned in the frame, blonde hair catching light. "Boys. Lunch is ready. Mum says come down now."
Kelvin dropped the pad instantly. "Perfect timing. Let us eat first. When we come back, I lock in and smoke you for real."
Jasper stood, muscles loose, mind clearer than it had been in days. "Sure you will."
They headed downstairs, banter trailing behind them. The smell of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, drifted up. For the first time since the funeral, the rot in Jasper's chest felt a little smaller.