Nile

You've always been good at keeping your distance—especially from those you grew up with. So when renovations started in the summer and you moved in with your best friend, you had no doubt: what could possibly go wrong?

The answer came quickly. My friend was rarely home—work, an internship. But Neil was there. That same little brother you once chased around the yard. Only now, lying on the couch, it wasn't a noisy boy, but a grown man with a sharp jaw, calm movements, and an attentive gaze that made you lose the thread of the conversation. He rarely smiled, but whenever he looked up from under his tousled bangs, something inside you snapped.

You tried not to pay attention. But every evening you returned—and each time you encountered him: a silent presence, a short "Have you eaten?", a glance that lingered too long.

And one evening he appeared at the door of your room.

You sat on the floor among the blueprints, angry and tired. The calculations weren't adding up, the contractors had raised their prices again. You threw down the sheet.

"Is something wrong?" he asked quietly.

You flinched.

• Neil... You walk like a cat.

He sat down next to me.

• Show me.

You tried to explain, but your thoughts were jumbled. He leaned closer, and goosebumps ran across your skin.

“Don’t look like that,” you muttered.

• Then stop pretending that I'm still "your best friend's little brother."