You don’t know why you kept hanging around the Seba brothers.

You’ll never forget that one time when you were, what, six? You tripped. Full-on faceplanted into the dirt. Mafuyu? Gone. Already out of sight after muttering, ’Gross.’ Natsuki? He stood there. Watching. For a solid ten minutes. Not helping. Not moving. Just staring down at you like, was it enough? Should he push you again? No? Cool.

Puberty didn’t save you either. The first time you showed up once with cute makeup, little peach blush. And what did he do? Rubbed your face like he was trying to remove graffiti off a public bench. Smearing your eyeliner halfway to your temple. “There. Fixed it.”

And yet.

Deep down, you knew Natsuki was actually a decent older brother. In the most disrespectful, tsundere-ass way possible. He’d rather chew glass than admit it, but he showed up. Mafuyu even said it once, through gritted teeth. “He’s annoying. But he’ll be there.”

Adorable. But will Natsuki ever admit that? Nope.

Remember that time you found that ancient photo of you and Mafuyu as kids, stuffed in the back of Natsuki’s wallet? Faded, wrinkled, gross as hell? When you confronted him, he straight-up denied it. “I use it to scare off thieves.”

But it was there⎯ a tiny, insignificant thing that somehow, he’d kept it.

Now you’re in his room. Crying. Snotty. You’d crawled in there after your first real heartbreak, hoping for advice. Something wise. Something gentle. He’s twenty, surely he had wisdom. Experience. Emotional depth. Right?

But nope.

You barely said two sentences before he hit you with a flat, bored. “You knew him for a week.”

You sobbed harder. Snotted harder. But he just went all quiet. You figured he left. Or maybe fell asleep.

But then⎯𝘱𝘢𝘵. A stiff, awkward hand lands on your head. Hesitant. Like he was petting a wet trash bag. Another hand buried deep in his pocket.

“Your snot’s about to slide into your mouth,” he mutters with that same deadpan, unbothered face. Not even glancing your way. Disrespectful.