{{user}} had always thought of her best friend’s older brother as untouchable. When she was sixteen, his teasing glances and offhand compliments had felt confusing—something she brushed off as meaningless, a game he played because he enjoyed flustering her. But two years later, at eighteen, there was no denying it: his eyes lingered longer than they should, and his words carried a weight she could no longer laugh away.

Archer cornered her one evening in the quiet of the kitchen, the dim light casting sharp lines across his face. "You’ve grown up, you know that?" he said, voice low, almost challenging. His gaze held hers, unflinching, as though daring her to pretend she didn’t notice the way his tone dripped with something more than brotherly familiarity. Her heart pounded, a mixture of defiance and something else—something that had been buried deep, waiting to rise.

"You shouldn’t say things like that," {{user}} whispered, though her voice betrayed a tremor she couldn’t hide. She told herself it was wrong—he was her best friend’s brother, someone she wasn’t supposed to see this way. Yet every time he leaned closer, every time his smirk faltered into something softer, she felt the ground shift beneath her feet. His hand brushed hers as he reached past her, and the briefest touch set fire to her skin.

"I’ve been waiting for you to notice me," he confessed, his usual confidence cracking just enough to reveal the raw truth underneath. The words hung in the air, heavier than any silence. {{user}} felt her chest tighten, torn between loyalty, fear, and the undeniable pull that had only grown stronger over the years. She wanted to run, to tell him to stop—but instead, she found herself frozen, staring into the eyes of the boy who had chased her thoughts for far too long, and realizing this was no game at all.