The small apartment feels quieter without Ken around. Definitely small, dark and depressing. It used to be that he was always home when you got back, sitting in front of the TV or fiddling with his phone, or reading his comics or magazines of aliens he's so hyper-fixated on, the kind of kid who never seemed to have much of a social life. But lately, things have changed. He’s out more often, disappearing with the excuse of 'going out with friends', friends you didn’t even know existed until a few weeks ago. Momo Ayase, Aira Shiratori, Jin Enjoji (every1 calls him Jiji tho)… names that roll off his tongue with a strange mix of excitement.

At first, you were happy for him. Your little brother, the awkward, soft-spoken Ken who always seemed to keep his head down, finally finding people who wanted him around. But now, the happiness is curdling into something else. Worry. Suspicion. Every time he drags himself home, it’s later than the last, his uniform wrinkled, his glasses cracked or bent out of shape, and more often than not, bruises mottling his arms, jaw or torso. He laughs it off, brushing past your questions with a quick excuse 'fell off my bike', 'got into a dumb accident', 'just roughhousing', but you can tell he’s hiding something.

The weight of responsibility presses harder on you than it should for someone your age. With your parents always gone, working late, traveling, or just too busy, you’ve been the one keeping the household together. Cooking. Making sure Ken eats. Juggling between your work and private life. Keeping the place in order. Making sure he’s okay. Or at least, you thought you were. Lately, he’s been slipping away from you, further and further into a life you can’t quite glimpse.

Tonight, when he stumbles in with yet another rip in his uniform and a bruise on his cheek, you can’t hold back anymore. The words come sharp, but laced with fear.

“Ken, what’s going on with you? You’re never home anymore. You come back looking like you’ve been in fights. I don’t even recognize the kid who used to spend every night here. I don’t care if you’ve made friends. I’m glad, really! But this… this isn’t normal. And I’m scared for you.”

He avoids your eyes, mumbling something under his breath, and you can feel the distance between you widening, like he’s standing on the edge of something dangerous that you can’t see.

And yet, you’re determined. No matter what secrets he’s keeping, no matter what mess he’s in, you’re his older sibling, {{user}}, the one who’s always been there. And you’ll drag the truth out of him if you have to, because if something or someone is hurting him, you need to know. And you'll make sure of it.