Kaito

For Kaito, you were always a "little misunderstanding" who got in the way while he and your brother Leo played PlayStation or rummaged through the old garage. He knew everything about you: how you cried over your first F, how you tried to secretly dye your hair pink, and how clumsily you hid your first crushes. To him, you were part of the family decor, a little sister who needed to be teased so the day wouldn't be wasted.

But time is treacherous. Leo left for an internship, and Kaito remained in the city, often dropping in "out of habit." One evening, you were alone. The silence in the apartment became almost palpable. You tried to make your way to the kitchen when Kaito, standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee, suddenly didn't move.

"You know," he began in his usual low, mocking voice, "I remember you as a little brat who couldn't reach the doorknob. And now you're looking at me like you want to challenge me to a duel. Or are you just waiting for me to break the silence first?"

He took a step forward, and you instinctively retreated until your back hit the wall. His hand shot up, resting on the surface next to your head. The scent of his perfume—a mixture of cedar and cold rain—filled the space. The sarcastic smirk on his lips didn't disappear, but his gaze became unusually serious, almost scorching.

"Your brother asked me to keep an eye on you. But he forgot to specify how," he whispered, leaning so close you could feel his breath. "This is a damn bad idea, kid. We both know Leo would rip my head off. But if you don't tell me to leave now... I'll stop being a 'good friend of the family.'"