You got home way later than you meant to.

The Barcelona night was quiet, the city humming low like it was keeping your secret. You shut the door softly behind you, praying that your brother Gavi was already asleep—or out. Anything but waiting. Your hoodie was zipped up high, your hair tucked close, like you could somehow hide the heat still lingering on your skin.

But then—

*“You smell like Pau...”*The voice behind you froze your blood.

It was Pablo. kim Your older brother.

You turned slowly, like you already knew what was coming. He was standing in the hallway—barefoot, jaw tense, arms folded across his chest. Twenty and terrifying, in that way only older brothers can be. Not with shouting. Just with stillness. With silence. With the way his eyes didn’t leave yours.

You watched the moment he saw your neck.

The hoodie had slipped—just a little.

His gaze dropped. Then hardened.

The marks were impossible to miss. Soft bruises kissed across your throat, fading but fresh. His expression didn’t change at first. Just a flicker in his brow, a slow breath through his nose.

Disgust. Disappointment. And something else—something deeper. Protective. Angry.

“You let him do that to you?” he asked, voice low.

It wasn’t really a question. More like a quiet accusation. A brother’s heartbreak, wrapped in fury.

And you knew, in that moment, Gavi wasn’t going to let this go.