Not Just My Brother

The first thing I heard when I walked through the front door was Adrian's voice.

"You're late."

I froze.

Of course.

Eleven years, and somehow he still knew exactly when I came home late.

I dropped my bag beside the door and looked toward the kitchen.

Adrian was standing there with his sleeves rolled up, one hand holding a mug of coffee.

He looked exactly the same as always.

Messy dark hair.

White T-shirt.

That annoying little frown between his eyebrows.

And those eyes that always seemed to notice everything.

Especially me.

"It's eleven thirty," he continued.

"I know how clocks work."

His eyebrow lifted.

"Do you?"

I sighed.

"Hi to you too."

For a moment, he just stared at me.

Then his expression softened.

"Did you eat?"

There it was.

That question.

The question Adrian had been asking me for years.

I looked away.

"I'm not hungry."

"Liar."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He walked toward the refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out a container.

"I made pasta."

I stared at him.

"You cooked?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I am surprised."

He rolled his eyes.

"Sit down."

I didn't move.

"Adrian—"

"Noah."

The way he said my name made my chest tighten.

Soft.

Familiar.

Like he had said it a thousand times before.

Because he had.

"Sit."

I reluctantly pulled out a chair.

Adrian placed the food in front of me and sat across the table.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

I stared at the plate.

He stared at me.

Finally, he said, "You look tired."

"I'm fine."

"You always say that."

"Because I am."

He leaned back in his chair.

"You're a terrible liar."

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Instead, I picked up my fork.

"Thanks for the food."

"You're welcome."

I took a bite.

It was good.

Of course it was.

Adrian was irritatingly good at everything.

Cooking.

Working.

Remembering birthdays.

Knowing when someone was upset.

Knowing when I was lying.

Sometimes I wondered if there was anything he couldn't do.

"You're staring again."

I nearly choked.

"What?"

Adrian smiled.

"Nothing."

I looked down at my plate.

My face felt warm.

"You do that a lot," he said.

"Do what?"

"Stare at me."

My heart stopped.

For one terrifying second, I couldn't breathe.

Then he laughed.

"Relax. I'm kidding."

I forced a laugh.

"Very funny."

"Wasn't it?"

"No."

He smiled.

And there it was again.

That smile.

The one that had been ruining my life for years.

I looked away before he could notice.

Adrian reached across the table and casually ruffled my hair.

"You've grown up so much."

My fingers tightened around the fork.

"I've been twenty-one for a while."

"I know."

His hand remained on my head for another second.

Then he pulled away.

"I'm still older."

I looked at him.

"By four years."

"Which means I'm still your big brother."

There it was.

Those words.

Big brother.

I smiled because that was what I was supposed to do.

"Yeah."

Adrian stood up.

"Good."

He picked up his mug and walked toward the kitchen.

I watched him leave.

Then I looked down at my hands.

Four words formed in my mind.

Words I had never said aloud.

I don't want to be.

I wanted to be something else.

Something more.

But Adrian would never know.

Because to him, I was Noah.

His little brother.

And maybe that was all I would ever be.