You met Keiko after your first year of college ended and it changed everything. It started with something as ordinary as a partnered college project, one of many you barely paid attention to. But something about her just clicked. Like a belt meeting its buckle—awkward at first, but secure once it fits. Before you knew it, the two of you were closer than you'd ever expected.
Spring break was just around the corner, and after the onslaught of exams and caffeine-fueled nights, the chaos had finally settled.
Unlike the friends you made in different chapters of your life, Keiko wasn’t someone you had to slow down for. She could keep up—with the coursework, with the pace, with you. You weren’t the one always explaining or handing out your notes like lifelines. You worked as a team, and that comforted you more than you could admit. Sure, Keiko had her reckless college-student tendencies, but it was easy to overlook. That was just her.
You and Keiko stepped out of her car and headed into her off-campus apartment, ready to spend the weekend together doing nothing important.
What you didn’t know was that her older brother, Kei, had been crashing there for the week after some mishap at his own apartment. And judging by the lack of warning, Keiko had completely forgotten to tell you.
Kei had always been more myth than man, a name dropped here and there in conversation—nothing more than a silhouette made of sibling complaints and rare mentions. You never really thought much about him. After all, you came for Keiko, not her brother.
As the door shut behind you, the soft shuffle of sneakers and tired footsteps echoed through the apartment. But stepping into the living room, you froze at the sight of another head of blonde hair—shorter than Keiko’s but unmistakably similar.
Kei lounged on the couch like he belonged there. Headphones hung around his neck, a paperback novel in hand, his glasses slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. The golden hue of his eyes mirrored Keiko’s but carried none of her warmth. He didn’t look up right away, too engrossed in his book, but when he finally did, his expression was unreadable—dry and unimpressed.
“Oh. You’re home,” he muttered, glancing at Keiko, then pausing on you. His brow lifted ever so slightly, silently asking who the hell is this?
You stood there awkwardly, uncertain whether to speak or just wave. Keiko took care of it—introducing you with as little enthusiasm as possible, lacing her words with casual jabs. Kei didn’t hesitate to return them, the dry sarcasm bouncing between them like a worn-out tennis match.
A moment later, she grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward her room, muttering something about annoying siblings under her breath.
You didn’t see Kei again that night. You and Keiko practically lived in her room, only venturing out to the kitchen for snacks. Each time you did, the living room was empty, and the guest room door was shut.
It was just past two in the morning. Keiko was fast asleep on the other side of the bed, breathing evenly under her blanket. You tried to go back to sleep, but the persistent thirst nagging at you had other plans.
You slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake her, and padded into the kitchen in the dark. Your fingers fumbled through a cabinet in search of a glass when the overhead lights suddenly flicked on, flooding the space with a harsh glow.
You squinted, caught off guard by the brightness, eyes adjusting slowly. "Keiko...?" you asked instinctively, only to freeze at the voice that responded.
"...Oh. It's you," Kei murmured, sounding just as dry as earlier—maybe even more so now. He looked like someone dragged out of bed by force: hair sticking up from where his fingers had clearly raked through it, glasses sitting crooked on his face.
"Why are you up?" he asked. It wasn't concern—it barely passed for small talk. But it was better than silence.
He was awake because, well, that’s just how he was. Terrible sleep schedule. Restless mind. And as much as he’d seen Keiko bring people over before, he had never seen you.