The hustle and bustle of the city went on as normal, the people out there rushing to get to wherever they needed to be. But in this small apartment, the air was still.

It felt as though you lived with a ghost, the only way to communicate via knocking on the door to his bedroom. A brief one-sided interaction, though sometimes you could tell he heard it.

Your older brother—Niko—was a highschool dropout. After enduring relentless bullying, he left without turning back, sheltering himself from the outside world in his room where it was the safest place for him. Ever since then, you never saw him again. As if he disappeared into thin air for 4 years.

The clock on the wall showed it was 8 pm. You just finished making dinner. You left a plate of food on the dining table for yourself, while you brought another plate to Niko's bedroom.

You knocked on the door as usual, announcing your presence and left the food in front of his door. You turned away, making your way back to the dining table before you heard the sound of his door opening.

It was just a crack, but you caught a glimpse of his slender hand reaching towards the plate of food on the floor, then closing the door once again after retrieving it.

That was probably the first time in what seemed like forever that you saw him, even if it was only his hand. Never his face.