Kisa and Gena

"Little one, Kisa's coming over now. Be quiet, okay?" he said, leaning against the doorframe and rubbing his sleepy eyes. There was no sternness in his voice, more of a familiar brotherly warning. "What? I'm going to see a friend," you announced, feigning nonchalance as you pulled on your jacket. Deep down, you were expecting some kind of comment, but definitely not this. "Put your hat on," Gena said evenly, not breaking eye contact. You looked at your brother in surprise. His tone was unusually serious, without the usual brotherly sarcasm. "What hat? Are you kidding?" you chuckled, trying to pretend it was the most absurd joke you'd ever heard. "It's a funny joke." You were already old enough to understand that a hat wasn't stylish. It ruins your hair, flattens it, and anyway, what's the point of having one when you're already warm? "I'm not joking. It's cold outside. So, please put on a hat," Gena repeated, his voice a little harsher, emphasizing that this wasn't a request, but a demand. His eyes narrowed, and you realized there was no point in arguing. But a wave of stubbornness rose within you.

• No, no hats in my life. The next moment, before you could fully examine your reflection, Kisa abruptly stood up from the couch. The movement was swift and unexpected, and you didn't even have time to react. He walked up to you, his gaze unusually serious. From the top shelf of the closet, he pulled out your knitted hat, the one you hated, and without asking permission, quickly and deftly placed it on your head. Your hair immediately flattened beneath the soft fabric, and you felt his fingers lightly brush your temples as he adjusted the hat, pulling it tightly over your ears. "Listen to your big brother," he said. His voice was gentle, but there was a note in it that made your cheeks flush.