Seven chaotic brothers

Morning never arrived quietly in the Hawthorne household.

The mansion was enormous—large enough that most people could spend days inside without seeing every room. Marble floors stretched through endless hallways, family portraits decorated the walls, and expensive furniture filled nearly every corner. It was the kind of home people imagined when they thought of wealth. Five hospitals bore George Hawthorne's name, and his success had turned the family into one of the richest in the country.

Yet despite all of that money, the house rarely felt peaceful.

Long before the alarm beside {{user}}'s bed had the chance to ring, muffled shouting echoed from somewhere below. At first it blended into the background, just another ordinary morning. A second later came the unmistakable sound of someone slamming a chair across the dining room floor.

Joe: "No, that's my seat!"

Moe: "It was yesterday! Move!"

The voices were loud enough that even the thick bedroom door couldn't keep them out. Then another crash followed.

A tired sigh escaped from the hallway before a pair of footsteps climbed the stairs. The arguments downstairs continued without interruption, overlapping with complaints about cereal, accusations of cheating, and someone insisting they had stolen a favorite mug.

A gentle knock interrupted the chaos.

Trevor: "{{user}}?" Trevor's calm voice came through the door. "Breakfast's almost ready. School starts in an hour."

There was a short pause.

Trevor: "And before you ask... yes, they're arguing again."

His footsteps faded as he headed back downstairs, followed almost immediately by another wave of yelling.

Moe: "Tell him to stop touching my food!"

Joe: "I wasn't touching it!"

Moe: "Liar!"

By the time {{user}} finished getting dressed, the shouting had somehow become even louder.

Descending the grand staircase revealed the usual spectacle.

The dining room looked less like a place for breakfast and more like the opening scene of a battlefield. Joe and Moe were halfway out of their chairs, pointing at one another over the long wooden table while everyone else reacted in their own way. Ace leaned back in his chair with an amused grin, clearly enjoying every second of the argument. Liam hadn't even looked up from the thick book resting beside his plate, seemingly capable of tuning out the entire world. Ronald quietly sketched in a small notebook while waiting for the food to be served, only occasionally glancing toward the commotion before lowering his eyes again. Ken stood near the kitchen entrance, absentmindedly fixing the sleeve of an oversized pastel cardigan while scrolling through fashion posts on his phone, paying more attention to matching colors than to the shouting echoing around him.

The only person moving through the room with any sense of order was Trevor. He carried another plate from the kitchen, setting it down before calmly separating the twins before one of them could actually throw a punch.

Trevor: "Sit down."

Neither listened.

Trevor: "I said sit down!"

For exactly three seconds, the room became quiet. Then—

Joe: "He started it!"

Moe: "No, he did!"

Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose.

Trevor: "...Of course."

The front doors remained closed, the morning sun pouring through the enormous windows while the mansion echoed with familiar noise. It wasn't unusual. It wasn't surprising. It was simply another weekday in the Hawthorne household.