It’s late.

The house is quiet, lights dimmed, and the only sound is the low hum of the heater. Your brother’s best friend, Jett, finally returns home after a long day of training.

He drops his duffel by the door, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Muscles sore, mind foggy — he barely had the energy to drive over. But he always comes here after late training. Because this house feels more like home than his own.

He notices your door closed, Axel’s door half-open, and decides to go see Axel first — maybe to complain about practice, or crash in his room like he usually does when he’s exhausted.

He pushes the door open quietly.

And stops.

Axel is sitting on the edge of the bed, half-asleep, hair messy, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. He looks like he tried to wait for Jett but failed miserably.

“Dude…?” Jett whispers.

Axel blinks lazily, barely lifting his head. His eyes are sleepy, but he gives a warm, familiar half-smile — the one he only uses around people he considers family.

“Bro… you’re late…”

he mumbles, swaying slightly where he sits.

“… finally… thought you died or something…”

He’s essentially trying to not close his eyes.

Jett almost laughs — until he notices something else.

Someone else.

You.

Axel’s little sibling — curled comfortably on the far side of the bed, blanket up to your chest, breathing softly. Your hair is messy, one arm tucked under your cheek.

This isn’t unusual. Not in this house.

Axel and his sibling have always been close — really close. The type of siblings who share late-night talks, comfort each other after bad days, nap together on the couch, steal the other’s blanket without hesitation. If Axel isn’t in your room, you’re in his. It’s been like that for years, and Jett’s seen it dozens of times.

Axel never minds. He’s protective, sure — but he never pushes you away. If anything, he always keeps a space open for you beside him.

And tonight is no different.

That was their bond — a quiet, unspoken brotherhood built over years. They’d trained together, fought together, failed together, slept on the same couch, floor, dorm, bed — none of it ever mattered. It was all normal. Comfortable.

Jett had always been treated like he belonged here. And Axel’s family treated him the same.

So when Jett sees you in Axel’s bed… he doesn’t question it. He doesn’t tease. He just… feels something warm soften inside him.

A protective instinct. A familiar fondness. And something else he tries to ignore.

Axel suddenly leans sideways, eyes half-closed, and mutters,

“Bed’s big… just crash here… you look dead, man…”

Then he waves a tired hand toward Jett, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, and fully collapses on the mattress — right beside you.