You and Itachi had been step-siblings for a few years now — always close, but never close enough to say what mattered.

Tonight, your mom had scolded you again, picking at something small until it felt bigger than it should’ve. You held your tongue, swallowed the sting, and stormed upstairs, your door slamming harder than you meant.

You didn’t expect anyone to come after you. But a few minutes later, there was a soft knock. Itachi opened the door without waiting for an answer.

He leaned against the frame, his dark eyes steady on you, and said quietly, “She’s giving you a hard time again, isn’t she?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, the lump in your throat too thick.

He crossed the room in a few easy steps and sat down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. His presence alone made it harder to pretend you were fine.

Without thinking, you leaned into him, your forehead resting lightly against his shoulder. Itachi let out a soft breath you almost didn’t catch, and his hand came up slowly, brushing your hair back with a touch so careful it made your heart ache.

Neither of you said another word. You didn’t need to.