Hey, Only first draft, so still rough. Hope you like it.

Sorry I didn't ask. Didn't think you'd want to come. Are you coming?

I'm wearing my costume right now. Just saying.

Send me your scene when you're done.

Lx Toby idea. Scene 1.

EXT. LATE MORNING. SUNNY BUT CRISP We see a high brick wall through a car windscreen.

A young man's fingers drum the steering wheel.

Set into the brick wall, large glass doors catch the sun. We hear breathing. A white van pulls up, waiting for a car to pass in the other direction, obscuring our view.

It passes and we see a young man standing on the pavement outside the doors across the road. He wears a grey beanie hat, dark grey jacket, black jeans and white trainers. An old red holdall hangs from his right hand. He looks strong.

He looks up at the sky and shields his eyes from the light.

The breathing inside the car gets louder.

Cut to shot from outside, through the windscreen.

Young man wearing thick black frames stares out. His hair is wiry. Face fresh. Maybe twenty. He's nervous. We watch him take a deep breath, then push the horn.

Cut to a shot taken from over the other man's shoulder, as he stares at the car from across the road. The horn stops. We can make out the man sitting in the driver's seat. He doesn't wave.

A red saloon car drives past.

Man starts across the road.

I read it again. And again.

It's good. I can really see it and it makes me think of the start of Buffalo '66. I imagine opening credits in small letters in the bottom right corner of the screen as the scene plays out.

The Brothers Different.

Now, what the hell do I write?

A knock. Marc's leaning on the frame of my door.

I didn't hear him climb the stairs.

"You're still up?" he says.

I close my laptop. "Marc, it's not even eleven."

He looks at his wrist. "Don't have a watch. Feels later. What you doing?"

"Nothing. Just trying to write something."

Marc nods from the doorway. "Cool."

"What's in the bag?" I point.

He looks down. "Nothing. Recipe books and that."

I watch him decide whether to say more. He doesn't. Instead, he scans my room. "So where's your weights then?"

"What weights?"

Marc frowns. "What, you go gym? How much you pay?"

"I don't go to any gym. Press-ups." I mime with my arms.

"Lukey, people don't get that big that fast just doing press-ups."

"Press-ups and puberty." I smile.

Marc gives a sarcastic nod. "Yeah. Right."

He's still annoying. Why's he think he knows everything?

There's so much he doesn't know.

"OK, Lukey." And he goes. Just like he used to. Deciding the conversation is over, like he's the only one who can call 'cut'.

I stare at the empty doorway. The bars of the bannister. Annoyed.

I open my laptop.

The Brothers Different.

Opening Scene. Idea 1.

Black. Heavy breathing. Someone struggling.

Shot of young man being held back by two bodies. His face like a dog, trying to attack.

MARC: Get off me!

MAN'S VOICE: Easy Marc, leave it! He's done.

MARC: No he's not. I said get the fuck off me!

He breaks free and runs forward.

Cut to man on the floor. Splayed out like he fell from a building.

Narrow face. Sharp cheeks. His nose is broken. Face bloodied.

His head moves, like he's just regaining consciousness.

Cut to shot of Marc, from the ground. He dives on to us. Teeth bared.

A girl screams.

MARC: I'll kill you! I swear to God I'll fucking kill you!

Swinging fists. He hits again. And again. The thuds of punches landing. Crack of bone. Screaming. Two bodies try to pull him off, but he is an animal. Sounds fade to silent. Marc still trying to fight as he's dragged off.

Cut to bright sunlight.

Sliding glass doors open and we step out into the crisp air.

Sound of near-distant traffic. A bird.

Deep breath. A car horn. Cut.

Yo.

Sorry it's late. Loved yours. Let me know what you think.

We're coming to the party. Can't wait to see your costume.

See you tomorrow. Skywalker x My eyes are stinging. Attach File. Send.

I open the front door to the worst zombie I've ever seen.

Tommy's standing on the front step wearing old jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that's got rips and holes all over it. Around his eyes he's used what looks like eyeliner and he's tried to draw blood spots on his chin with what's clearly lipstick. It looks like a red goatee.

"Sick, right?" he says, spreading his arms, and I see his car parked across the road.

"Did you drive?"

"Course."

"It's like a minute walk, Tom."

"You think I'm walking the streets dressed like this?" He steps past me into the house.

I close the door. "We've still gotta walk and get Zia, you idiot. Two buses, remember?"

I watch the penny drop for him.

"No way. I'll drive. Forget the booze. Where's your costume?"

I shrug.

"Oh come on, Luke, you're kidding, right? Make an effort, man!"

"Make an effort with what?" Marc comes out of the kitchen in jeans and a black vest, tea towel over his shoulder. Tommy looks down.

"Easy, Tom. You good?" Marc leans on the wall, arms folded.

Tommy looks up.

Marc laughs. "Jesus, who are you? The Crow?"

Tommy shrugs. "Zombie."

"Right. You going clubbing?"

Tommy shakes his head. "House party. Fancy dress."

"Come on." I start up the stairs. Tommy follows me like a naughty dog.

"Yous wanna eat something before you go?" Marc looks up. "I've made kofte. Fresh mint and yoghurt."

I shake my head. "We're good, thanks. Smells good though."

INT. KITCHEN NIGHT Clear juices drip as sizzling meat turns from raw to ready.

"Kofte?" says Tommy, checking his face in my wardrobe mirror.

"They'll be good, too," I say, checking my laptop again for any new messages. Still no reply from Leia about the scene. I'll see her later.

"So he's back into the cooking and that?"

I close the laptop. "Proper. It's like flipping Masterchef in this house. Is that your mum's make-up?"

Tommy turns round. "Course it is! Is it rubbish?"

I laugh.

"Piss off, Luke. At least I made an effort. You turn up normal, that's just lame."

And he's right. If we're going, I've gotta do something.

Tommy opens my wardrobe. "What's this?" He pulls out Dad's sheepskin. "Yo, wear this. This is heavy!"

"Literally," I say, waiting for him to acknowledge the pun. He doesn't. Then his face lights up.

"I've got something!" He drops the coat and runs out of my room, down the stairs. I hear the front door open. Then my phone beeps. Leia. Please be Leia.

U cumin pub later? Dodx I picture him in his flat, on the sofa typing the text, and realise I haven't seen him since the awkward afternoon with Leia.

Then I see Mum there, next to him, curled up, her hand rubbing his shoulder, stroking his arm and ... CUT! You're sick.