Evelyn tugged the hood of the pajama set up over his head. The cartoon dinosaur face swallowed half of Noah's features, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible beneath the oversized, toothy grin.
She liked him in this outfit—childish, innocent, almost frozen in time. It stripped away the years and brought back the little brother who used to trail after her everywhere, hanging on her every word, obedient without question.
She reached out, drawing the boy deeper into her arms. He was already deep in sleep, breathing slow and even.
Noah shifted restlessly, rolling over until he faced her fully—cheek pressed to her collarbone, one arm draped loosely across her waist.
"Sweet dreams, little fool," she murmured, stroking his hair before guiding his head down to rest against her chest. His warm, steady exhales fanned across soft, pale skin, feeding the quiet, insistent hunger that lived beneath her calm.
…
Another dream pulled from memory.
Noah looked around: familiar hallways, stairwells, the old classroom block. Middle school—blue-and-white striped uniform pants everywhere, clusters of kids shoving and laughing as they moved between classes.
He drifted to the window of his homeroom and peered inside. The teacher stood at the front, gesturing animatedly. Rows of neatly dressed parents filled the desks—middle-aged, serious, notebooks open. Among them, one face stood out sharply: young, strikingly beautiful, completely out of place beside the weathered adults.
Evelyn turned her head just then, catching him staring. She made an exaggerated scowl—fierce brows, bared teeth in mock threat. Noah ducked instantly, heart jumping like he'd been caught stealing, crouching low beneath the sill until she looked away.
Back in elementary school, her strict rules had kept him model-perfect both in and out of class. Middle school changed that. The urge to play, the first stirrings of rebellion—he started skipping study sessions, pulling small pranks with a few boys from his class. Nothing huge, but enough to earn notes home.
By then Evelyn was already at Loane University, only coming back on holidays and breaks. Their mother's long hours and frequent trips left no one to rein in a restless teenager.
He knew he couldn't dodge it forever. After the incident report landed, he ran to his friends for ideas—wild, useless schemes that dissolved into laughter. In the end he had no choice but to face her.
It was a Friday. Parent-teacher conferences ended with kids getting picked up directly.
When the dismissal bell rang, Noah dragged himself back to the classroom, stomach knotted.
Most parents had already left. A handful lingered, speaking quietly with the teacher. He peeked around the doorframe and saw Evelyn standing at the front desk, nodding as the homeroom teacher spoke. Then she glanced over—right at him.
She crooked a finger. Noah shuffled forward, head down, shoulders hunched.
She didn't say anything at first—just rested a hand on his shoulder, keeping him there while the teacher continued.
"Noah's overall behavior is still good," the woman said, glancing at the grade sheet. "His scores were steady before this. No major incidents. But lately he's been a bit distracted—playing around more than studying. This month's exam dropped him out of the top ten. We can't let that slide."
"Thank you for letting me know. I'll keep a closer eye on him." Evelyn's fingers tightened slightly on Noah's cheek, a gentle pinch that felt anything but casual.
"There's also… the matter with Lila from the class next door. You're aware of that, yes?"
"Yes."
"The families may be fine with it, but they're still middle-schoolers. Studies come first."
Evelyn smiled—polite, composed. "If it affects his grades, please discipline him however you see fit. I don't want to see my brother getting into early relationships either."
"Good. That's all, then."
"Thank you again. I'll take Nate home now."
Outside the school gates, the sun had already dipped low. Crimson streaks bled across the sky, long shadows stretching over the pavement.
Friday afternoons always brought the food trucks—greasy, sizzling smells of fried snacks and grilled skewers hanging thick in the air, tugging at every hungry stomach.
Evelyn held his hand as they walked, her slim fingers wrapped around his thinner ones. Noah kept his eyes on the ground, steps slow, waiting for the lecture that had to be coming.
Then his stomach growled—loud, unmistakable. Evelyn glanced back. He offered a sheepish, lopsided grin.
"Hungry?"
"…A little."
She sighed, reached up, and ruffled his hair. "Little glutton."
She steered him toward a roadside diner a block down—plastic tables under a striped awning, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Noah sat ramrod straight in the cheap chair, nerves still buzzing, watching her every move.
Evelyn unfolded the grade report the teacher had handed over. "The drop is pretty significant. Care to explain, Nate?"
"I… I wasn't feeling well during the test. Off my game."
"Is that so?" She set the paper down. "Then where did all those novels and comics in your room come from?"
"Borrowed from friends." He straightened a little, trying to sound convincing.
"Looks like Nate gets a lot freer when his sister's not around. First time you've scored this low, isn't it?"
"I'll do better. Next time I'll be back up there."
"Big promises now. But once I'm back at school, will you just slide right back to the same habits?"
"No way. I'd miss you too much."
Evelyn was strict about schoolwork, but Noah meant it—he hated when she left. She took care of everything: meals, questions, the quiet house that felt too big and empty without her. Those comics and books? They were just something to fill the long, lonely evenings when no one else was home. He wasn't scared of the dark anymore. He was scared of being alone.
"If you really miss your sister, then study hard. Get into the same university I did."
"I will. I swear." He raised his hand like he was taking an oath, eyes earnest.
They ate at the diner that night—simple plates of stir-fried noodles, dumplings, grilled skewers. Whenever Evelyn came home she always brought snacks, milk, or took him out like this—small compensations for all the time she couldn't be there.
She'd left for college when he was in eighth grade. Through high school he barely saw her.
Their mother traveled often. On those empty nights the boy still half-asleep would whisper "Sis… Sis…" over and over into the dark.
After that parent conference she didn't punish him harshly. Her warnings stayed gentle, measured—effective because they were both firm and kind.
Except when it came to early relationships. On that subject her rules were ironclad—no negotiation, no mercy.
Fortunately, whatever he and Lila had back then stayed innocent, clumsy, never crossing the line she'd drawn.
Later he kept his promise—tested into Loane University, walked the same halls where she taught. She stopped forbidding relationships, stopped the tight leash. And yet somehow he ended up exhausted, frayed… until he chose, on his own, to step back under her control.
—
The first reported case of the fall-winter flu outbreak at Loane came from an employee at a local drink shop. It hadn't spread far—only a couple of close coworkers and one unlucky college kid who'd stopped in late one night for dessert.
Crisp white sheets, harsh fluorescent lights, the blue-and-white striped hospital gown, and the thick, chemical smell of disinfectant that clung to everything—every detail of the hospital room made Noah's skin crawl. The air felt heavy, suffocating.
His father had died in a room just like this back home. The memories were etched in: the crying, the antiseptic reek, the white coats moving like ghosts. He hated hospitals. He hated sickness even more.
Two days in, the flu symptoms had worsened—dizzy spells, fever that left him aching, no appetite at all. It felt like he'd aged decades overnight, every joint protesting.
The only small mercy: he hadn't passed it to Evelyn.
Some ancient soap opera droned on the wall-mounted TV. Noah shifted, wedging the pillow lower against his back, and stared blankly at the screen, letting time crawl by.
Hospital days dragged. The bed next to his stayed empty. Besides the constant in-and-out of doctors and nurses, the only people he saw were Evelyn and Lila, who visited when they could.
His phone buzzed. A new message from her.
"Sis will come see you soon. Anything you want to eat?"
"Not really hungry… I want an ice-cold Coke."
"Chestnuts sound good? You're running a fever and still want cold drinks? Planning to stay in here forever?"
"…Okay, maybe a chicken leg?"
"That's fine. Your sister's going to get some now." Another text followed immediately: "How are you feeling today? Any better?"
"Still really dizzy." He paused, thumb hovering, then typed: "Did I miss a lot of classes?"
"We'll deal with that when you're better. Worst case, your sister can tutor you."
For most laid-back students, missing time wouldn't matter much once they recovered. Evelyn was different. She meant every word—if she said she'd catch him up, she would. No shortcuts.
"Can we… maybe skip the tutoring?"
"Nate gets sick and suddenly his skin's thicker. Other subjects we can ignore, but if high math was bad, your sister isn't letting that slide."
He let out a weak, wry smile. Then a knock at the door pulled his attention.
Lila stepped in carrying a large bag of fruit, white surgical mask covering most of her face, making her eyes look even clearer, brighter.
He turned off the screen, managed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "No class today?"
"Just finished. Came to check on you." She sat on the edge of the bed, pulled an orange from the bag, and started peeling it. "Doctor say how long?"
"Probably a week."
"That's a while. You told me to stay warm, and now look who's in here. Can't even take care of yourself anymore?" Her voice dropped to a murmur. "You used to be so good at taking care of me…"
"I got it from someone else. The drink shop employee was patient zero. I went in for milk tea."
"Milk tea?"
"Yeah. Was supposed to be for Sis, but she doesn't like it."
Lila finished peeling the orange, stripping away most of the white pith. She tugged her mask down just enough to reveal pale-pink lips, broke off a segment, and popped it into her own mouth.
"Weren't you peeling that for me?"
"I was. But you don't like oranges."
The sweet-tart juice burst across her tongue, flooded her senses, slid down her throat—and left only a faint, lingering sourness. She pressed her lips together. Some quiet, ridiculous hope snuffed out in an instant.
They had always been that close. Caring for each other. Family affection that could stretch, unquestioned, into something else. It had never changed. Never left much room for her.
"I didn't say I don't like them." Noah's voice pulled her back. "I can peel my own."
He shifted, reaching toward the bedside table for one of the large, golden oranges Evelyn had brought earlier—bright, ripe, perfect.
Before he could grab it, two segments appeared at his lips. Lila's slender hand held them steady, eyes fixed on him. "You're sick. Don't move. I'll feed you."
"Thanks." Noah settled back obediently, lifting a hand to take the piece—only for her to push it straight into his mouth.
"Don't move. I'm feeding you."
"You really don't have to—"
"Be good. Lie still. I've never really taken care of anyone. Let me try."
The first two words—"be good"—hit like a reflex. Evelyn said them constantly. The command was wired deep; his body obeyed before his brain caught up.
He gave a helpless little smile, gaze drifting to her flushed lips. "Mask back on, okay? Don't want you catching this."
"If I do, we'll just quarantine together. I'll take the empty bed right there."
"It's miserable. Boring too. Stuck in one place, mountains of missed work."
"We'd be together. That wouldn't be boring."
She peeled another juicy segment—red-gold, glistening—and held it to his mouth. This time he froze. His eyes flicked past her, soft with sudden apprehension.
"Sis… you're here…"
Evelyn glanced at him coolly, then rested a light hand on Lila's shoulder. Her voice stayed gentle, almost sweet, but the mockery underneath was unmistakable. "Thanks for coming to see my brother, Ms. Vale."
Lila withdrew her hand, offered a calm smile that didn't waver, eyes still on Noah. "We've known each other since we were kids. Of course I'd look after him."
"No need to trouble yourself. When my brother's sick, his sister takes care of him."
"If she was doing such a great job, he wouldn't be here, would he?"
"Kids misbehave sometimes. A little stricter discipline, and they learn to listen." Evelyn's gaze shifted to Noah then—expression unreadable.
Lila stood. "I'll come back another time. Bye."
She met Evelyn's eyes for a long second—height difference be damned, the air between them crackled.
"Bye…"
Noah watched her leave, then turned to Evelyn with an exaggerated, innocent smile. "Hey, Sis. Afternoon."
"Nate looks full of energy. Almost recovered? Ready to start catching up on lessons?"
"No—no, my head still hurts."
He knew she hated—maybe even despised—how close he and Lila still were. What just happened had crossed a line, brushed against something raw. Yet she seemed calm. Almost too calm.
"Here's your chicken leg—braised and fried, both." Evelyn opened the plastic takeout box, slipped on disposable gloves, picked up a piece, and held it to his mouth.
"Sis… you saw that?"
"Whatever happens, it can wait until you're better." She bent her eyes in a soft crescent; beneath the mask, her lips curved. "Eat well. Rest well. Once you're healthy again… we'll see how your sister deals with you."