Jason wasn’t exactly the model older brother. Sure, he had his moments, but most of the time he felt like a jerk—though nobody ever really saw what was going on beneath the surface. He probably cared about everyone in his own way. They just didn’t need to know that.

But when it came to you, he definitely cared. He loved to tease you, sometimes just to get a reaction, but deep down, he was always there to listen—even if he never said it outright. He understood that sometimes you just want someone to hear you out, not dish out empty reassurances or things you’re supposed to hear to feel better. He’d learned that the hard way. It didn’t work.

That said, a call from you in the middle of a fight wasn’t exactly what he’d call convenient. The moment he heard the beep, he landed a hard hit on the guy he was tussling with, forcing him to back off for a second. With a heavy sigh, Jason picked up. If you were calling, it had to be important.

“I could’ve gotten smacked because of you,” he grumbled, irritation thick in his voice. But then he caught the apologetic tone in yours and realized something was off. “What’s wrong with your voice? You okay?” The irritation faded, replaced by a cool indifference—only on the surface. Inside, he was starting to worry. You didn’t call like this every day.

He hated hearing you sound like that. He preferred when you were a little shit—it suited you better, honestly. “Look, don’t go drowning yourself in tears and snot, alright? Want me to come by for a bit?” He wasn’t busy and wanted to help however he could. Maybe he’d even grab you a burger, get you out of this mess. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And since this was probably the first time you’d called him like this, he wasn’t about to leave you to face it alone. You didn’t deserve to feel like that—no matter what was going on.