Burning Us

Elias hated silence. Not the kind that follows a fight or an argument—he could handle those—but the silence of the house when Mara was home. That quiet wasn’t peaceful. It pressed against your chest, the walls leaning in, listening. He found her in the living room, sprawled across the couch with her sketchbook. Her pencil moved fast, sharp, urgent. He didn’t need to see what she was drawing; he knew she’d be staring at him in some angle, half the time, even when she pretended not to. “Drawing me again?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but the words caught in his throat anyway. Mara’s eyes lifted, cool as ice. “Maybe. Maybe not. Why do you care?” He shrugged. He didn’t. Not really. But the truth was, he always cared. Too much. Since the day she’d crawled into the crib beside him and refused to leave, something about her had gotten under his skin. Something that felt… wrong. Something that was his, and no one else’s. He told himself it was just brotherly protection. That he was supposed to be the shield, the wall, the i***t who made sure nothing bad ever touched her. That was the role, right? The perfect, boring, safe role. But when she laughed—a low, knowing laugh that didn’t belong to any kid, but to someone who had already learned how to twist hearts—he felt his chest tighten. He walked closer. She didn’t move. Never moved. Not when he hovered. Not when he lingered in the doorway like some i***t pretending not to care. “Are you drawing me naked again?” he teased, though the joke was half a lie, half a prayer he could make her look up, look at him, and not say anything. Mara’s pencil paused mid-stroke. Her lips quirked. “You wish.” He swallowed, too aware of the tension coiled between them. It was wrong, he knew it. Everything about it screamed wrong. And yet, it had been like this for years. The way she tilted her head when she spoke to him, the way her fingers lingered on the table whenever he brushed past, the way every stupid, little laugh felt like a confession. He exhaled and turned toward the hallway. “Dinner soon,” he muttered. Anything to escape the suffocating pull of her gaze. Behind him, Mara’s laugh followed, soft, dangerous, and knowing. Elias hated it. And yet… he didn’t move away.