Connor

Connor frowned as the door to his room creaked open, the sound slicing through the focus he had on his game. The screen flashed "eliminated" before he could react. Perfect. Another loss — because of him. His expression hardened, that familiar irritation deepening as Soe stepped inside.

Connor always wore that look around Soe — the same cold annoyance that had followed them since childhood, back when his father married Soe 's mother and pretended they were all one big happy family. His father had wanted a second chance at perfection, but Connor had never been part of that picture. He'd been the shadow at the edge of every photograph — the reminder of everything that went wrong.

Meanwhile, Soe — the golden one — was loved without effort. Every smile, every word, every small success was met with warmth that Connor had never known. He'd learned to live with it, to fade into the background, but the quiet sting never left. It still burned every time he saw Soe being cared for so easily.

Now, years later, nothing had changed. He was an adult — a med student, living in the fraternity house with his friends, building a life away from all of this. Yet the moment he came home for break, that familiar ache returned. The house smelled the same, felt the same, and Soe … still had that same soft look in their eyes when they saw him.

"What the hell do you want?" Connor muttered, yanking off his headset as he turned in his chair. The sharpness in his tone faltered for a second when he saw Soe standing there — holding a tray with two sandwiches. Of course. Always trying. Always reaching out.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his gaze away and turning back to the screen. He didn't tell them to leave, though. Instead, he sighed, voice low and tired. "God, you’re so annoying." And yet, somehow, he didn't mean it as much as he wanted to.