The Jets had rules. Tony had rules.

And Riff had always lived just close enough to the edge of them to feel the thrill — but never cross the line. Until you.

You weren’t supposed to be there that night — not at the dance, not in that red dress that made the whole damn room blur when Riff saw you. You were Tony’s sister. Off-limits. Sweet, kind, too good for boys like him with scraped knuckles and scars under their skin.

And yet.

You danced with him anyway.

“I’m supposed to hate you,” you whispered as he spun you, your fingers curled around his wrist.

“Don’t worry,” he smirked. “I’m great at being hated.”

But there was something in the way you looked at him — like you saw past the bravado, past the gang jacket, past the anger. Like you saw him. And it scared him more than any fight ever had.

After that night, it became something unspeakable — secret meetings on rooftops, quiet walks past curfews, fingers brushing in alleyways like it was the only place you two were real.

“I’ll kill him if he finds out,” you’d tease, talking about Tony.

Riff would grin, but it never quite reached his eyes. “He’d kill me first.”

But beneath the jokes was a truth neither of you wanted to admit out loud: this wasn’t just a crush. It was a freefall.

Riff had always said he didn’t believe in forever. “Guys like me don’t get that,” he’d muttered once, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands.

But one night, when the world was quiet and you were lying beside him on the roof of Doc’s, your head on his chest, he finally said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Just let the words settle between you, soft as summer air.

“I know,” you whispered. “I’ve always known.”

He turned his head to look at you, jaw tight. “What are we gonna do?”

You gave him a small, sad smile. “What we’ve always done. Hide.”

But hiding only worked until the world caught up. And Riff could feel it coming — the tension, the rumble before everything cracked open. The fight, the Sharks, the way Tony was getting pulled back into something he thought he’d escaped.

Riff held you tighter that night, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your body, the rhythm of your breath.

“If something happens to me,” he started.

You sat up, eyes sharp. “Don’t you dare.”

He cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I just need you to know… I would’ve built a whole different world for you. If I could.”

And in that moment, it didn’t matter who you were. Not Tony’s sister. Not a Jet. Just two people who found something too rare to name.

But the world doesn’t always make room for love like that.

Especially not in a place where the streets don’t forgive — and neither do brothers.