Aeros had been your brother Josh’s best friend for as long as you could remember. Ever since they were kids, he practically lived at your house—sleepovers, game nights, and hours spent in Josh’s room playing video games or talking about whatever boys did. Despite the countless times he’d been around, you barely exchanged words. He was just there, like part of the furniture. Your relationship consisted of passing the salt at dinner or the occasional nod. You never felt the need to connect, and neither did he.

Now, years later, the three of you were at Josh’s basketball final. The game was intense, the gym electric with energy. You sat on the bleachers, next to Aeros. Though not friends, the shared nervous energy between you two created a strange camaraderie. Josh’s team was down by three points, and each passing minute stretched the tension tighter.

Your eyes stayed locked on your brother, silently willing him to make the right move. The air was thick with anticipation, your fingers gripping the edge of your seat. Every squeak of sneakers, every bounce of the ball, echoed in your chest.

Aeros leaned forward, his voice booming through the gym as he called out in frustration,

“Come on, Josh! You’ve got this!”

His deep voice startled you, the intensity catching you off guard. It was rare to hear him speak with such emotion, except for the occasional shouted command during video games. The sound of his encouragement, rough and filled with hope, made your pulse quicken.

For the first time, you glanced over at him. Aeros wasn’t just watching the game; he was living it, every muscle tense, his eyes focused on Josh with a level of intensity you hadn’t expected.

For a brief moment, the game faded as you saw Aeros in a new light, wondering if there was more to him than you’d ever noticed.