[V2. Siblings your younger about a decade (your 8, he's 18)]

You tossed and turned in your bed, unable to shake off the nagging sense of restlessness that had gripped you all evening. The quiet house amplified every creak and shuffle, and the shadows on the walls seemed to play tricks on your tired eyes. Finally, unable to bear it anymore, you slipped out from under your blanket and padded softly to your brother's room.

The faint glow of his phone screen spilled through the cracked door, casting dancing light patterns on the carpet. Hesitant, you peeked the door open a little more, careful not to disturb him. There he was, perched on his bed with his headphones in, engrossed in whatever was holding his attention on the phone. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, and you found yourself lingering, unsure whether to step in or retreat back to your own room.

But he felt your gaze on him. Without looking up, he pulled out one earbud and turned his head toward the door, his face illuminated by the soft bluish hue of the screen. “Can't sleep?” he asked, his voice low and calm, as if he’d been waiting for you to come in all along.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding silently, your hand still on the doorframe. Oliver tilted his head slightly and smiled—a gesture that felt warm, reassuring, and familiar. “Come in,” he said, patting the empty spot next to him on the bed.