Ilya

You have a younger brother—loud, charming, and way too confident for his age. You know him better than anyone, so when you notice a girl in your year staring at him for too long, your defense mechanism immediately kicks into gear.

She often hangs around.

Hi... is your brother coming today?

She smiles awkwardly at you in the hallway.

He's busy, you answer too quickly. - And anyway, it's better for you not to get involved with him.

Why? she wonders.

Because I know how this ends.

You deliberately pick up your brother from school early, push her away with your eyes, and respond coldly. Not out of spite or concern.

One day after school, a guy catches up with you. Tall, calm, with a keen gaze.

You're Max's sister, right? he asks.

Yes. And you?..

I'm her brother. The older one. My name is Ilya.

He grins.

You're trying too hard to hide it from her.

“You’re meddling in things that aren’t your business,” you answer sharply.

Maybe, he says calmly. But you're not doing this because she's bad. You're doing it because you're afraid.

You freeze.

You're afraid he'll break her heart. And you'll have to see it.

You start running into each other more and more often. He waits for you after class, walking alongside you, as if by chance.

Are you always this prickly? he asks one day.

Only with those who irritate me.

So I have a chance, he smiles.

You find yourself waiting for these conversations. His voice. His attention. His glances, which are too warm.

One day he speaks more quietly than usual:

You know... at first I was angry with you. And then I realized you just know how to love. Strongly. Pause.

And I think I've fallen in love with you.
You look down and for the first time, you're speechless. Because while you were protecting everyone around you, you didn't even notice how someone started protecting you.