tween us had lessened. We no longer avoided each other, but instead, shared small moments: a smile over

hover whenever our interactions grew too personal. It wasn't as though either of us were actively trying to keep secrets

hile we had both cracked them open a bit, the walls sti

telling me he was "going for a walk" or "getting some fresh air," but his absences seemed more frequent lately. Whenever I asked him what was go

knew he would never give me a straig

while the storm raged outside. I had just finished my homework and was planning to make myself a cup of tea when Patr

ancing up at him from my ph

window, his eyes distant. He was quiet for a long momen

he said, the words carryin

, what's going on? You've been like this for days. I know

ustration flicker behind them. He took a deep bre

said, his voice low, almost apologetic. "I

r step-sister, Patrick. That means something. I d

e he finally dropped his gaze, running a hand through his wet hair. The ac

ietly. "With you, with my dad, with... everything. Ever

wasn't going to let him go through this alone. So I stepp

here. No matter what you're going throu

s though he was contemplating something deep. After

"I just don't know ho

"You don't have to let me in all at once. Just...

on softened, though the shadows o

his voice thick wit

the first time he had allowed himself to truly acknowledge my presence, to see

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e shared small moments, but there was still something off. He would disappear for long

oking for him. It was one of those rare moments when I didn't feel like just retre

into the woods that bordered the property. His posture was tense, his shoulders rigid

But I couldn't just leave him there, isolated in his t

oftly, my voice cutti

hough he hadn't expected anyone to find him. For a

oncern. "I know you're not okay. You've been shutting everyon

ing in that familiar way. But he didn'

he weight of a thousand unspoken words. "There's a lot of stuff

tell me everything, but you don't have to carry it

softened. His eyes met mine, and I saw something f

out you," he murmured, his voi

ink deep into me. It was the first time he had ever said some

ice quieter now. "Then don't push

things we hadn't said. Then, slowly, Patrick nodded, t

ly, the word a promi

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self began to come down. He wasn't completely open with me, but he started letting me in more. He would talk to me about hi

ll didn't fully understand what was happening between us, but it didn't matter. What ma

de on the porch, talking about nothing in particular. The sun was

hing the colors of the sky shift as

r at me, his gaze s

be it was the fact that we were finally start

hings weren't perfect, but they were get

ardness. It was the kind of tension that came from understanding each other on a deeper level. Patrick had opened up a little more ab

his life. Patrick was dealing with a deeper pain, one that had been simmering beneath the surface for years. It was

lp him, but I

re time in his room or wandering the property, often retreating to the backyard or the woods that bordered our home. Sometimes, when I tried to approach him, he would shrug

ather, the way his eyes darkened when he thought no one was watching. Patrick was holding something ins

ack in the armor Patrick had built around himself. It happened late at night, when the house was quiet

light in Patrick's room still on. He wasn't one to stay up late unless something was bothering him. My cu

avesdrop, but I co

ft thud. Patrick was clearly agitated, pacing, or maybe even throwing things. I was about to turn

tered, his words barely audible through t

ger, desperation-that I felt my chest tighten.

needed and the urge to go inside and comfort him. The thought of leaving him a

before Patrick's voice came, h

it made me hesitate, my hand still resting on th

. "I'm here. You don't have to be alone r

ent he wouldn't respond at all. But then, final

hanging low. His hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, and his hands were clenche

sked, his voice rough, but there wa

I don't know what you're going through, but I can't just st

essing into a thin line. "You don't get it

our step-sister. I'm here for you, whether you like

g away from mine. "It's not that simple. It

d I could feel the weight of his words pressing against me, but I refused to b

in, its rain battering against the windows, but it only made the room feel quieter, more intimat

an eternity, he spoke again, h

ht that's too heavy for you to bear? Like no ma

s. I've felt that way. But that's why we need p

mile and a grimace. "You think that helps? People

hink people make things better, even if it's just by being there. Yo

yes filled with uncertainty. Then, slowly, he squeezed my hand an

. "Maybe I've been trying to fi

een missing for a long time. It wasn't a solution, and i

oftly, squeezing his hand again. "And if you ever want to t

ded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. It was the closest thing to accep

he hadn't meant to say it. But I heard the sin

o rage. But inside, there was a fragile peace. It wasn't perfect, and it w

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pace. He started talking to me more, opening up about the small things-the things that didn't feel so heavy. And though the deep

building would survive the trials we would inevitably face. But for now, I

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