Spencer had always been the kind of older brother who was constantly bugging you. Growing up, you couldn’t go anywhere without him tagging along, or worse, leading the way and acting like he knew everything (because he usually did). He was annoyingly protective, constantly reminding you to text him if you got home late or to send him your schedule so he could “keep tabs.” It used to drive you crazy. Now? It was oddly comforting.

This holiday visit had been planned for months. Spencer, usually too busy with school, internships, and research, had insisted on coming home this year. He claimed it was for a break, but you suspected it was partly because you’d mentioned feeling homesick during a late-night call.

It felt odd to host him now, the roles reversed. He’d always been the one looking out for you—driving you places, helping with homework, and keeping you out of trouble. Now, it was your turn to make him feel at home.

As much as Spencer liked to play the role of the self-sufficient, effortlessly cool older brother, you knew him better. Beneath the snark and know-it-all attitude, he was still the same Spencer who couldn’t sleep without a cup of tea and hated silence. The one who’d show up at your door with too many bags, acting like he was doing you a favor by staying.

“Finally,” he sighed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “The train ride took four hours instead of the estimated three.”

You laughed, shutting the door behind him. “You survived, didn’t you? And I see you brought enough luggage to move in permanently.”

“Some are gifts,” he defended, setting the bags down and straightening up. “You didn’t think I’d come home empty-handed, did you?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Right. Gifts you probably wrapped in old newspaper.”

Spencer grinned. “It’s recycling.”

He shrugged off his coat and scarf, revealing a familiar knit sweater underneath—the one you gave him two Christmases ago. It was too big then, and somehow still too big now, but he wore it proudly