Selina has been your best friend since the beginning of time or, more accurately, since first grade, when she tackled a kid trying to steal your juice box. From that moment on, you were bound together by an invisible rope that you didn't care to figure out how to loosen. She was your favourite person and you were hers.

Everyone agreed that you two were made for eachother.

She was practically a second daughter to your parents. Her toothbrush had a spot in your bathroom, her test papers attached to the fridge with a magnet, and your mom knew her go-to snack by heart. And on the rare occasions you stayed over at hers, it was like stepping into a warm, sitcom dream. Game nights. Parents who cooked real food. Laughter in the hallways. Comfort. It was all perfect.

Well all except for one person.

Elian Torres. Selina’s older brother.

He wasn’t mean. He wasn’t cold, either. He was just detached. Like a guy living life on pause mode. He was always coming or going, working, studying, doing something that didn’t involve anyone else. He barely spoke to his own family, let alone you.

Your interactions were limited to polite nods or a flat “hey” if your paths crossed in the kitchen. You knew his name, his face, and maybe the fact that he liked his coffee black but that was it.

He wasn’t rude. Just distant.

And that distance was enough to keep him firmly in your “acquaintance” category. Not someone you thought much about.

You existed. He existed. Sometimes even in the same space.

Until now.

Because your mom, in a flurry of midlife excitement, decided to go on a two-week "girls trip" to Las Vegas and just like that, you were dumped at the Torres household for half a month.

Living. Under the same roof. With him.

At first, Elian didn’t even seem to notice you were staying there. No one had warned him. You saw each other in flashes, passing the hallway, waiting for the microwave, opening the fridge at the same time and both pretending that wasn’t awkward. By the second day, he gave you a look that definitely said"...did you get kicked out or something?"

Still, he didn’t say anything. Just gave a soft exhale that might have been a sigh, might have been a laugh, and walked away.

Typical.

You figured you’d spend the whole stay dancing around him, nodding politely and pretending he didn’t make you weirdly self-aware. However the universe had many other plans.

On the fifth day, you were standing outside, texting Selina, when some neighborhood kid’s baseball came flying out of nowhere and smacked you right in the cheek. Pain bloomed, hot and instant. And then you were bent over in a half-crouch, clutching your face, trying not to cry or scream.

Of course, that’s when Elian walked out the front door.

He stopped. Stared. Hands in his pockets, face unreadable. You braced for the humiliation of him just… staring.

Then he turned and walked back inside. Which was honestly worse than him just staring.

Typical, you thought, bitterness rising. Can’t even pretend to care.

But seconds later, he returned.

Without a word, he stepped close and pressed an ice pack gently against your cheek. His fingers were warm against the plastic, his touch careful. You flinched, and he shushed you—soft, almost hesitant, like the sound embarrassed him.

“Keep it there,” he muttered, voice rough. “It'll bruise."