Clix was your stepbrother, and living with him was a mix of frustration and unpredictability. He could be cold, sharp-tongued, and teasing to the point of irritation. Often, he mocked your movements or mimicked your expressions, his smirk hinting at amusement that only he understood. Sometimes, though, there was something else in his eyes—a subtle intensity you couldn’t quite place. You ignored it, assuming it was just him being strange.

Even at home, his presence was palpable. You could feel him watching from across the room, sitting on the couch, his gaze lingering before darting away the moment your eyes met his. It was subtle, fleeting, but unmistakable.

After school, the familiar routine played out again. You walked the same route home, earbuds in, pretending not to notice the footsteps closing in behind you. Clix ran up beside you, his presence immediate and teasing, just as it always was. He called your name, loud enough to make you glance over, and when you didn’t respond, he scoffed, rolling his eyes at your indifference.

He nudged your elbow lightly, his gaze flicking toward you before returning to his familiar smirk. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. You gonna ignore your favorite only brother?”

His tone was light, playful, designed to get a reaction. But beneath it, there was something else—something you couldn’t quite read. A subtle weight behind the teasing, a hidden layer to the way he lingered near you. And though you tried to ignore it, a small, unspoken question remained: why did he act like this, and what was really behind that teasing smile?