The light coming through the half-drawn curtains was that hazy summer kind — soft, warm, and way too bright for how little sleep you'd had. You trudged into the kitchen, hair a mess, hoodie hanging off one shoulder, socks mismatched. A proper zombie, but at least a determined one. You were on a mission: cereal.

The TV was already on, low volume. James and Will were sprawled out on the living room couch like they owned the place. James was in his usual trackies, legs wide, arms slung over the cushions, while Will sat beside him, laughing at something stupid — probably a meme or someone falling off a bike.

You didn’t look over. Not right away. You kept your eyes on the cereal box as if it held the secrets of the universe. You could feel Will’s presence though. Like his laugh settled somewhere between your ribs.

"Morning, dead girl walking," James called over. "Make me one too, yeah?"

You didn’t look up, just shot back flatly, "Get off your arse and do it yourself."

He groaned dramatically. “Swear you’ve gotten ruder since I left.”

“You’ve gotten louder,” you muttered, grabbing another bowl anyway and clinking it down on the counter beside yours.

Will snorted from the couch. “Morning to you too,” he called, voice warm and rough with sleep. It did things to you it had no business doing.

You finally looked up.

And regretted it.

He was leaning back in one of James' awful graphic tees, one you remembered from a sleepover in 2017. His hair was floppy, clearly towel-dried and still a bit damp. He looked older. Taller, somehow. More real. Less of a long-time crush and more of an actual person — with biceps. And a jawline. And God, that voice.

You swallowed and turned quickly back to your cereal. “Morning,” you mumbled.

James kept on talking about something — football, probably — but your focus shifted. You placed the second bowl next to your brother’s seat on the sofa, careful not to let your fingers shake.

Will’s eyes flicked to yours. “Didn’t know you were a cereal chef now.”

“Didn’t know you were a comedian,” you shot back, sitting down at the far end of the couch.

He grinned. “Always have been. You were just too young to appreciate the jokes.”

James barked a laugh, mouth already half full. “She still doesn’t.”

Will tilted his head at you, smile twitching. “I dunno… she seems sharper now. Bit more bite.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You saying I was dull before?”

“Not dull,” he said, like he was choosing his words. “Just... cute. All wide-eyed and shy. Now you’ve got this—” he gestured vaguely, “—‘don’t talk to me unless it’s life or death’ vibe. Very mysterious.”

You scoffed. “Maybe I just don’t like you.”

“Ouch.”

James didn’t look up, just said with a mouthful of cereal, “She’s lying. She had the biggest crush on you when she was like, eight.”

You nearly choked.

Will blinked. “Yeah?”

Your face was already on fire. “James.”

“What?” he laughed. “You used to follow him around like a duck. You remember that, Will? When she—"

“Okay!” you snapped, grabbing a cushion and launching it at James' head.

He ducked, still laughing.

Will, to his credit, looked surprised... but not weirded out. If anything, his grin grew a little more smug.

“Well,” he said, eyes on you now, not teasing — just curious. “That’s flattering.”

You tried to look anywhere else — the cereal, the floor, your own knees.

James finally got up, bowl in hand. “Right, I’m gonna take this upstairs. Mum said she’s doing a roast later, so don’t eat too much.”

“Bossy,” you muttered.

He flipped you off as he left.

And suddenly, it was just you and Will.

The TV played something low in the background — someone on a bike screaming. Your bowl sat untouched in your lap.

Will leaned forward, arms on his knees. “So… still got that crush, or what?”

You looked over at him, cheeks burning, and offered the only reply you could think of:

“You’re still wearing James' crusty shirt. You tell me.”

He laughed, head thrown back, bright and loud. And when he looked back at you, his smile hadn’t faded.

“Probably weird,” he said, voice low. “But who cares?”