The minute you unlocked the door, you knew you’d be met with his whining. A part of you considered turning around, maybe spending another hour at school. But if you did, your brother might actually starve to death.

The second you step inside, barely setting your backpack down, Nagi’s head turns from the couch, brows furrowed. “You’re late. Didn’t even tell me… is that how it is now? We just ignore each other?”

Dramatic. Coming from the one who barely answered his text messages.

He trails after you to the kitchen, rubbing his stomach like he hadn’t eaten in days. He always preferred your cooking; it saved him from wasting money on whatever takeout he’d lazily order. You were the younger sibling, but sometimes it felt like you were the older one. It was all due to the way Nagi relied on you just to function.

Maybe he liked being taken care of. Maybe he was just lazy. Either way, calling him a big brother felt like a joke. As you pull out pots and pans, Nagi reaches for the plates on the top shelf, towering over you like always. He was helpful, but still somehow useless.

He lets out a lazy sigh before tugging at your cheek, an affectionate, annoying little habit. “Seriously though… text me when you’re gonna be late, okay? I’m your brother, aren’t I?”