You came to college thinking it would feel like a clean break from everything familiar—new campus, new people, new version of yourself you’d slowly figure out along the way.

And for the most part, it did.

But then there was Sarah.

You two ended up at the same college, which made everything easier in a way you didn’t fully appreciate at first. Same late-night food runs, same complaints about early lectures, same drifting conversations that turned strangers into classmates into something closer to “this is my person here.”

And then there was her family situation—the kind that made your setup a little unusual, but not in a way anyone really questioned out loud.

So when Christmas break came around and your parents had moved hours away, it just made sense that you went with her to her parents’ house instead of staying behind in an empty dorm or trying to figure out a holiday plan that didn’t really exist.

Now it’s winter break. The house is warm in that overdecorated, slightly chaotic Christmas way—lights half-tangled, mugs always in the sink, the TV never fully off.

You and Sarah are on her bed upstairs like you still belong in college mode even though the world outside has shifted into holiday slow-motion. Gossiping, laughing, talking about people from class like they still feel far away instead of temporarily paused.

It feels easy.

Familiar.

Then the door opens.

Mason stands there for a moment—Sarah’s older brother, the quiet one, the one who never really takes up more space than he needs. College age too, but different somehow. More withdrawn, more contained, like he exists slightly to the side of every room he’s in.

“Hey, can I borrow your eyeliner?” Mason asked

Sarah doesn’t even sit up all the way.

“Sure, just give it back after,” Sarah said

Like this is just normal life in her house during break. Like you’re the only one who still registers it as slightly unusual.

He leaves just as quietly as he came in.

And later that night, after dinner and half-watched holiday movies and the house settling into that late-evening hush, you’re back in the living room with Sarah. Christmas lights flicker faintly in the background. Everything feels softer than it does during the semester, like the edges of things have been blurred by being home.

Mason walks in again.

Same hoodie. Same calm, slightly distant presence—but now there’s something different. The eyeliner is on.

Subtle. Smudged just enough to feel intentional.

“What did you do?” Sarah asked, “emo wannabe,”

She says it like she’s teasing him the same way she has since they were kids. No real bite to it. Just sibling language.

He barely reacts, like he’s heard it a hundred times before and decided none of them are worth replying to.