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But this quiet, open, exhausted look in my brother’s eyes feels worse somehow. It gets under my skin in all the places I keep armored, all the places I pretend don’t exist.

I look away before either of them can see too much.

Which is stupid.

Because of course they already have.

“I didn’t know,” I repeat, rougher now. “I thought you were just… pissed. I thought you looked at me and saw a fucking problem.”

Alex lets out a slow, heavy breath.

“You are a problem,” he finally says.

I let out a short, broken laugh before I can stop it. And somehow that makes everything in me hurt worse.

“But you’re my problem,” he adds, and his voice is so matter-of-fact it almost undoes me on the spot. “You’re my brother, Maksim. I don’t always know how to deal with you, and half the time I want to knock you into slumber, but I don’t hate you.”

My heart constricts, not enough to break me completely, but enough that I have to drop my head for a second and stare at the ground like it personally offended me. My vision blurs just enough to be dangerous. I blink hard, once, then again, grinding my teeth like that’s somehow a substitute for emotional regulation.

It isn’t.

I hear Alex move closer.

Then, after a beat, his voice comes out quieter than I expect. Careful, almost awkward in a way that would be funny if I weren’t too busy trying not to lose all dignity in broad daylight.

“Do you need a hug?”

The question is so deeply, violently offensive that I actually look up at him. He’s standing there with that same serious expression, but I can tell he means it. Which somehow makes it worse.

Or better.

Or both.

I don’t know. My chest feels too full to tell the difference.

I shake my head immediately.

No. Absolutely not.

I really want a hug, and that’s the problem.

I want one so badly it scares me.

So instead I clear my throat and say, “I’d actually rather die, thanks.”

Anton snorts.

“Stubborn little shit.” Alex mutters in Thai.

That does it.

The smallest broken pathetic laugh escapes me. I try to swallow it, but it turns into something closer to a sob-laugh hybrid.

“Yeah… well, can’t have you two getting all sentimental and ruining my reputation as the family’s resident disaster,” I say, my voice laced with unavoidable sarcasm. “Next thing you know, we’ll be combing each other’s hair and talking about our feelings every full moon. I’d rather eat my jeans.”

Alex huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” I fire back playfully, my voice still thick but steadier now.