You didn’t expect him to be so… present.

Bang Chan, older brother of your best friend, was supposed to be just that—a brother. Someone you’d wave at in the kitchen, maybe have small talk with over dinner. But the way he looked at you when he arrived? The way his smile curled, slow and just a little knowing? That wasn’t just family-friend energy.

He had been in Sydney for a few days now. Visiting. Taking time off. Sleeping in his childhood bedroom. You were in the guest room next to it. Sharing the hallway. Sharing the balcony just outside your doors.

It was late. One of those nights where the heat clung to everything—your sheets, your skin, your thoughts. You got up, needing air, and stepped onto the balcony barefoot, hair messy, oversized sleep shirt falling off one shoulder.

And of course, he was already there. Hoodie on, no shirt underneath, hair pushed back, water bottle in one hand. He looked up from his phone and smiled—that smile.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shook your head. “Too hot to sleep.”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at your bare legs for half a second before looking back out at the night. “Sydney’s version of hell.”

You both stood there for a moment. Not touching, not talking. Just… feeling. The tension was so real you could taste it.

“You and Hannah really are close,” he said eventually, not looking at you.

“Yeah,” you replied, voice softer now. “She’s like a sister.”

He smirked, but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then:

“So I guess that makes me your… brother?”

You turned to him, raising a brow. “Do you feel like my brother?”

That stopped him. His eyes flicked to yours—sharper now. Charged.

“No,” he said. Quiet. Honest. Then, after a beat: “Is that bad?”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

The silence between you grew heavier. Not awkward. Just dangerous. Like both of you knew exactly what line you were walking—but neither of you wanted to step back.

He stepped a little closer. Not much. Just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his bare skin.

“You should probably go back to bed,” he said, voice suddenly hoarse.

“Why?” you asked, your voice light, teasing. “Because,” he said, eyes flicking to your mouth, “if you stand here looking like that any longer, I’m gonna forget who I am to you.”

You froze. But you didn’t move.

He didn’t either.

But just as the tension reached its breaking point, he took a deep breath, backed away a step, and looked away.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, quieter now. “Night.”

And he slipped back inside, leaving you alone on the balcony—skin buzzing, lips parted, heart racing.