---
They still weren’t talking to .
Not a word.
Not a glare.
Not even an accidental cough.
We had just co back from school, and I had foolishly hoped the whole silent treatnt thing had blown over. You know, maybe Sora would throw her pencil case at like old tis, or Elira would mutter sothing like "baka" under her breath.
But nope. Still locked in Silent Hell™.
I sighed the mont we entered the house, only to freeze.
Shoes.
Big ones.
Next to mine.
And a suitcase?
Before I could process it, he stepped into the hallway like a walking complication.
"Yo, Ren! Long ti no see, little bro!"
My brother.
Riku.
The tall, charming, ’I accidentally have abs’ type of older sibling who sohow manages to be effortlessly likeable and ruin my life in the sa breath.
He had that sa dumb, sparkling aura that made old ladies give him free mochi and girls turn into giggling NPCs.
"Hope you don’t mind crashing here for a week. Got so leave from work," he said, throwing an arm around my shoulders.
I minded.
Oh, I minded hard.
---
Ten Minutes Later
I don’t know how it happened.
But sohow, he was already surrounded.
Sora was laughing at his jokes. Laughing.
i brought him tea. Voluntarily.
Akane was blushing like soone spiked her blood pressure.
And Elira? She said "You have nice shoulders."
WHAT DOES THAT EVEN AN!?
I tried talking. I really did.
But the mont I opened my mouth—
"Ren, can you not?" i snapped.
"He’s talking again," Sora mumbled like it was a curse.
Even Aya... Aya who texted all that sweet stuff just yesterday, gave a blank look and said, "Don’t you have sothing to clean?"
No. No, I didn’t. I had sothing to cry.
---
Midnight
I dragged myself to my room. My safe zone. My kingdom.
Only to find my brother already asleep in my bed.
Snoring.
Shirtless.
My posters were moved. My beanbag... gone. There were flowers on my desk.
"What the hell..."
"Ren," Elira said behind , arms crossed. "We decided you should sleep on the couch. Your brother needs a proper bed."
"MY bed!"
"He’s a guest," Aya added.
"In my house!"
"Exactly," Sora said, walking past with her blanket. "So don’t ruin the vibe."
---
Now
I’m writing this from the couch.
No blanket.
Just sha.
And maybe jealousy. Okay, definitely jealousy.
Because they’re all laughing upstairs with him again.
And I’m here trying to fall asleep without developing abandonnt issues.
...I miss being hated slightly less.
---
Morning.
I was still alive.
Barely.
I had spent the night like a stray cat — curled on the couch with a curtain as a blanket and a microwave dinging in the distance like a funeral bell.
I cracked open my eyes.
There he was again.
Riku. My brother.
Making freakin’ pancakes. In my kitchen. Wearing an apron. MY apron.
The one Aya got for — the one that said "Kiss the Chef... If He’s Hot."
"Morning, sleepyhead," he said, grinning at like he didn’t just steal my entire life.
Then Aya walked in, rubbing her eyes, her hoodie hanging off one shoulder.
"Mm... slls good, Riku."
She never said that about my cooking. She once called my scrambled eggs "emotionally disappointing."
i ca next. Hair tied up. Glasses on. She walked straight past and sat next to him.
"You made the syrup from scratch?" she asked.
FROM SCRATCH?
Who was this man? A chef? A succubus in disguise?
Then Akane entered. And the whole kitchen got brighter. She was wearing his shirt.
HIS. SHIRT.
"Riku made matcha pancakes~" she giggled. "You’re literally the perfect older brother!"
And I swear to God, sothing inside cracked.
I hadn’t even eaten yet.
---
Later That Day
We were all lounging in the living room. Well—they were lounging. I was sulking in a corner, watching the love of my life (tis four) throw sparkly admiration at the man who probably ca out of the womb with a six-pack.
Elira sat beside him, practically glowing. "I didn’t know you used to do modeling, Riku."
"Oh, it was part-ti," he said modestly. "I prefer quiet things now. Like painting."
Aya: "You paint?!"
i: "What don’t you do?"
: "EXIST IN YOUR HEARTS, APPARENTLY."
I didn’t an to shout that.
It just slipped out.
The room fell silent.
They all stared.
"...Ren," Sora said finally. "Why are you shouting like a rejected Power Ranger?"
I shrunk in my seat. "I’m not jealous."
"You sound jealous," Aya said, arms crossed.
"I AM NOT JEALOUS."
Elira smirked. "A.. look at his ears turning red."
"They always turn red!" I argued.
"Only when you lie," i replied with zero hesitation.
---
That Night
I stomped to the couch again. Because apparently, I still didn’t have a bed.
I muttered to myself.
"He’s not even that cool. His abs look Photoshopped. I bet his hair isn’t even real. Probably a wig. A... very silky, perfect wig."
"Ren?"
I turned around. It was Aya.
My heart imdiately betrayed . It did that weird thump thing it always does when she’s around.
"Why are you really upset?" she asked, kneeling next to the couch.
I looked away. "I dunno."
"You sure?"
"...Maybe I miss you all talking to . Maybe I hate the way you all laugh at his jokes. Maybe I miss being the idiot you all yelled at together."
She smiled gently. "You are still our idiot. Just a silent one."
I blinked. "That’s... the nicest insult I’ve ever gotten."
She laughed softly, then leaned closer.
"If it helps," she whispered, "I don’t like his pancakes."
My eyes widened. "Wait. Really?"
She nodded. "They were too perfect. No soul."
I almost cried.
Then she kissed my cheek.
Just once.
Quick and light.
"Don’t make us chase you, Ren. We’re just waiting for you to show up again."
And just like that, my jealousy broke.
Replaced by sothing stupid and warm.
And I slept like a baby.
---
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