In the heart of their chaotic bedroom, Perfect Peter sat cross-legged on the floor, his face a mask of determination. He had had enough of his brother's mess. Everywhere he looked, Henry's belongings were strewn about like a hurricane had passed through. "This is it," he muttered to himself, glancing at the pile of clothes spilling out of the wardrobe.

Fuelled by frustration, Peter marched over to Henry's bed. With a grunt, he pushed it towards the door, his small frame trembling with effort. "What are you doing, Peter?" Henry exclaimed, entering the room just as the bed bumped against the wall.

Peter turned to face his brother, his eyes blazing with resolve. "I'm tired of living in your mess, Henry!" he shouted, pointing a finger at the wardrobe. Henry, taken aback by the outburst, folded his arms, his expression a mix of confusion and indignation. "You can't just throw my stuff out!" he protested, stepping forward.

Their mother stood in the doorway, surveying the scene with a sigh. "What is going on here?" she asked, her voice calm but firm. Peter paused, his anger giving way to a sense of guilt. "I just wanted him to clean up," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

Their mother placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, her gaze softening. "I understand, but this isn't the way," she said, looking between the two brothers. Henry nodded slowly, realization dawning on his face. "I'll clean up, I promise," he said quietly, meeting Peter's eyes.

Peter smiled slightly, relief washing over him. "Thanks, Henry," he said, his voice softening. As they began to tidy up together, their mother watched, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sometimes, the best way to solve a problem is to face it together," she remarked, her words echoing in the peaceful quiet of the room.