Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 349: Family Matters (Part 6)

Summer sank deeper into her spot on the couch, the shift subtle but noticeable. Her posture curled slightly, one arm looping loosely around her stomach while the other hugged the side of the cushion.

Her gaze was still on the screen, but it was unfocused now. Somewhere between the show and somewhere else.

Her tone was quiet when she spoke again—no sarcasm this time. "I'm not struggling or anything y'know?" she said, her voice barely above the volume of the cartoon's background music.

"School's fine. My grades are actually solid. I could probably get into a really good university if I applied myself."

Don didn't interrupt. Just let her talk.

"But I don't know what I want after that," she continued, her fingers absently brushing the hem of the blanket over her lap. "I'm good with computers. I like tech stuff. Always have. But the thought of working in some lab… or for some corporate drone farm?"

She made a small face. "Makes my skin crawl."

She then let out a short, quiet laugh. Bitter, almost. "Just sounds like a slow death in fluorescent lighting."

Don glanced her way, one brow lifting slightly. He took a sip of his beer, set the can down on the table, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I get that," he said. "More than you probably think."

Summer tilted her head slightly, giving him a side-eye. "Oh yeah?"

Don smirked faintly. "Yeah. You ever spend your whole first life doing things you thought you were supposed to, only to realize none of it meant anything in the end?"

Summer blinked. "That's… oddly specific."

He shrugged. "Point is, don't rush it. Seriously. You don't need to have it figured out right now. Even if you screw it all up—and trust me, most people do—you've got me, mom, and Amanda. We'll be there. Even if we aren't, as long as you're able, don't give up."

He leaned back again, folding his arms.

"And more importantly? Do something you actually give a shit about. Not just what looks good on paper."

Summer stared at him for a moment, her lips tightening into something between a smile and a frown.

"That'd only work if you're still around," she said after a moment. "You've been here what, a few weeks? And it already looks like you're gonna be ten times busier soon."

Her voice wavered slightly. "Elite Hero program. Rising rep. Everyone and their dog wants a piece of you."

She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, her large breasts pressing softly against them as her voice lowered again.

"I used to dream of moving out after school. Thought about it all the time. Just… getting away. Having my own place. Starting over."

She rested her chin on her knees. "But since you came back… that thought hasn't really come up. At all."

Don didn't say anything right away. The cartoon played on in the background, some exaggerated joke landing with a boing sound effect neither of them laughed at.

"You don't think you belong here anymore," he said finally. It wasn't a question.

Summer didn't deny it.

"I dunno. The house just feels off. Like I'm visiting, not living here." She admitted softly.

Don nodded once, slowly. "That's probably because we all need a different space," he said. "Something less… suburban prison, more 'built for who we are now.' Somewhere that actually fits."

Summer scoffed softly. "Good luck convincing mom about that. She still arranges our socks by drawer color."

"And even if you get her to agree," she added, "there's still all the rules in this community. It's like a gated daycare with taxes."

Don's expression didn't change much. If anything, it got more thoughtful. "That's why I'm thinking of asking her if we can move. Entirely."

Summer turned her head sharply, eyes narrowing. "Wait, like—move move?"

Don nodded. "Maybe a penthouse or something. Somewhere with space. Privacy. And a hell of a lot fewer neighbors."

Summer stared at him, visibly shocked.

"…You're serious?"

"Yeah," he said simply. "I mean, we can afford it.."

Summer didn't immediately respond to Don. Not verbally, anyway. Her eyes stayed on him, full of disbelief. After a few seconds, she asked again—this time with more emphasis.

"Wait, you better not be fucking with me—are you serious serious?"

Don gave a short chuckle, leaned back a little more against the couch, and nodded. "Yeah. Serious serious."

Summer narrowed her eyes just slightly. Then—unable to contain the grin pulling at her mouth—she leaned over and hugged him.

"You better be," she muttered into his shoulder, arms loose but lingering. "If you're lying, I'm gonna kick you in your sleep."

The words were bratty, like always. But the way she clung for a second too long made it clear—she was touched. Not that she'd ever admit it.

Don smiled faintly and reached up to pat her head. Not gently. He gave her hair a slight ruffle, more playful than affectionate.

"Still five years old, huh?"

"Whatever," Summer muttered, pulling back like the moment hadn't just happened. Her expression was already shifting, eyes lighting up as she turned to grab her laptop again.

Without another word, she exited the cartoon mid-episode, flicked out of the movies folder, and clicked open a web browser.

Don raised an eyebrow but didn't comment yet. He stayed slouched where he was, arms folded across his stomach, watching the TV—still mirrored to her screen—like a casual observer.

Then it happened.

The browser loaded instantly. Not to a homepage, but to a video still in mid-play. Audio kicked in just as the image of a woman trapped under a bed appeared on screen.

"…mmm~, what are you doing, step—"

**Click**

The tab vanished, closed in an instant by Summer using nothing but a blur of keyboard shortcuts. A new one opened in its place—blank, boring, safe.

There was a silence.

Don turned his head slowly, his stare flat.

Summer didn't meet his eyes.

She let out an awkward laugh. "Wow. Ads these days, huh? I should really get an ad blocker."

Don blinked. Then, dryly he replied, "Or maybe better taste in porn."

Summer's face flushed red. "Ew. I don't watch porn like you."

"Right…" Don said, dragging the word out. Then shrugged. "Whatever you say… step-sis."

That earned him a sharp glare. Summer looked his way, brows furrowed deep. "Don't make me hurt you."

Don just smirked and lifted his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine."

Summer turned back to the laptop but mumbled under her breath, still visibly annoyed—and still a little red.

"Dammit. I forgot we're back in the Stone Age. Just how long is the network gonna be down…"

Don shrugged slightly as he leaned back into the couch again, beer can now completely empty and resting on the table.

"We'll probably know tomorrow… or well, technically today," he said, glancing at his watch.

Summer let out a sigh and crossed her arms under the blanket still draped across her lap. "I wanted us to look at properties and stuff for fun," she mumbled, lower lip just slightly out.

Don stood up slowly, groaning under his breath as he stretched. His joints popped lightly in the silence. "Maybe this is the universe saying it's time for bed," he said mid-stretch, arms over his head.

Then, casually, he added "I'll pass the idea to mom early tomorrow morning. If she's into it, I'll start looking at options and figure out what kind of budget I can work with."

Summer didn't say anything right away. Her arms were still folded, and her expression hadn't changed much—but her eyes softened just slightly.

She wasn't thrilled about ending the night early, but she could tell he was running on fumes. Given the day he'd had, she couldn't exactly argue. Or at least not convincingly.

"Yeah, well… let's just hope mom agrees," she said, sinking back into the couch. Then her tone perked up slightly. "Ooh, maybe we could move into the same area as Sylvia!"

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Don scoffed. "We'll see tomorrow."

He then turned toward the hallway, already moving lazily away as he added with just enough sarcasm to make it sting, "Night, step-sis."

Summer's eyes narrowed. "You ass—!"

She grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it in his direction. It hit him square in the back with a satisfying **fwump**—but he didn't flinch. Didn't even turn around. Just kept walking.

His footsteps echoed lightly down the hall, then started up the stairs, slow and steady until the sound faded entirely.

Summer kept frowning at the space he left behind. Arms still crossed. Blanket still bunched up near her waist.

Then she blinked.

And her eyes widened just a little.

"…Wait a minute," she muttered.

She turned toward the living room mess—the pizza remnants, the blanket piles, the half-empty chip bags, and the scattered drink cans. Her brows furrowed deeper.

She then raised her voice toward the hallway. "Hey! Aren't you gonna help me put things back?!"

No answer. Just the faint distant sound of a door opening.

Summer stared for a second longer, then slumped back onto the couch with a low groan.

"…Unbelievable."