My Brother’s Best-friend and I

Dove’s POV Simon has always said I was too soft for this world. Maybe he’s right. Where he is loud, bold, and untouchable, I am quiet, delicate… the kind of boy who drifts at the edges of people’s attention. But today, I feel seen. Jamal is back. I hear his voice before I see him, deep and rich, spilling through the hallway like warmth on cold skin. When he finally steps into the house, tall and impossibly put together, the air shifts. His presence fills the room, commanding without even trying. My heart stumbles. Simon runs to him, clapping him on the back, grinning wide, like no time has passed. They laugh, talk loudly, their voices bouncing off the walls. And I—quiet little Dove—stand at the corner, pretending not to watch. Pretending not to ache. Because Jamal isn’t mine to look at. He’s Simon’s best friend. He’s practically family. And yet, when his dark eyes finally find mine, the smallest smile curves his lips. It’s brief, gone too quickly, but it feels like a secret—like a tether I never asked for, but can’t pull away from. ⸻ Jamal’s POV It’s been years since I stepped into Simon’s house, but it still smells the same—like home-cooked meals and something warm I can’t name. Simon barrels into me, the same brother I’ve always known, and we fall back into easy laughter. And then I see him. Dove. He’s grown. No longer the fragile kid trailing behind Simon, but something softer, sharper, harder to ignore. There’s a grace to him, delicate yet striking, the kind that makes people pause without knowing why. Our eyes meet, and I catch the way he stiffens, how quickly he looks away. But not before I see it—the flicker of something he doesn’t want me to notice. Interest. Curiosity. Maybe more. I shouldn’t care. He’s Simon’s little brother. Off-limits. Always off-limits. But I do care. And that’s the problem. Simon’s laugh fills the living room, deep and careless, the way it always does when Jamal is around. They’ve been inseparable since childhood—two boys who grew into men side by side, carrying a bond I could never touch. I watch them from my usual place, tucked on the far end of the couch with a book in my lap I’m not really reading. My fingers play with the edge of the page, restless. I don’t belong in their world. Simon and Jamal—both tall, loud, and certain—shine in a way I never could. But when Jamal turns, even for a second, it feels like the room tilts in my direction. “Dove,” Simon calls suddenly, snapping me out of my daze. “Say hi to Jamal. Don’t just sit there like a ghost.” My cheeks flush hot. I look up at Jamal properly, for the first time in years. “Hi,” I manage, soft, almost fragile. His lips curve, slow and deliberate. “Hey, Dove. You’ve changed.” It’s nothing, really—just a polite comment. But the weight of it sits heavy in my chest, like he sees something I didn’t mean to show. ⸻ Jamal’s POV Simon talks my ear off, updating me about work, about his plans, about everything I’ve missed. I nod along, laugh when he expects me to, but my eyes keep straying. To him. Dove. He doesn’t realize how striking he’s become. He still carries that softness, that quiet aura—but there’s something else now. Something fragile yet magnetic, the kind of beauty people overlook until it’s too late to look away. “Hi,” he says, barely audible, his lashes lowering like he’s hiding. I shouldn’t notice the flush on his cheeks. I shouldn’t want to see it again. But I do. Simon doesn’t notice. He never does. To him, Dove is just the younger brother—too gentle, too delicate, someone to tease and protect but never really see. But I see him. And that realization settles into me with an intensity I don’t like. Because if I keep looking at Dove this way, nothing good will come of it. ⸻ Dinner is loud, full of Simon and Jamal’s booming laughter and easy banter. I pick at my food, half-listening, half-lost in my own thoughts. Every time Jamal’s voice dips lower, every time his hand moves, every time his gaze brushes mine—even accidentally—I feel it. A pull. It terrifies me. Because I know this isn’t safe. I know who he is. I know what it means to want him. But as Jamal leans back in his chair, his arm resting lazily along the back, his eyes meet mine again—steady, unwavering. It feels like a secret language, one Simon doesn’t hear, one no one else will ever understand. And in that moment, I realize something terrifying. Avoiding Jamal won’t be possible. Not now. Not ever.