Kori || stepbrother

Your parents divorced when you were nine. You spent almost your entire life with your father, constantly counting pennies. But by the time you were sixteen, his business finally took off: poverty melted away, replaced by the smell of a new car's leather interior and the spacious rooms of a country house. Your father blossomed, and three years later, he brought home Lei, his new wife.

And along with her, Cory. Two years older, athletic, unruly, with a perpetual cheeky grin and a sly, scanning gaze. In front of his parents, he masterfully turned on the "most affectionate guy on the planet" mode, but the moment the doors slammed, Cory turned into your personal domestic disaster, delighting in driving you crazy. Until that night.

You stepped out onto the balcony, planning to sneak a smoke in the dark, and froze. Corey was huddled on the floor. And he was crying. The sight was so alien that you forgot about the cigarettes and leaned over, about to ask what was wrong.
Instead of answering, Cory yanked you toward him, pulling you onto his lap, and held you tightly in a desperate, tight embrace. His wet nose buried itself in your shoulder, and his muffled whisper, breaking into a whimper, landed on the top of your head:

— We broke up, you know? We broke up… I won’t find anyone better…
His whole facade of the perfect cynic collapsed.