My brother's best friend

Chapter 4:Craks In The Armor

The sound of laughter filled the small café, voices bouncing off the walls as people came in from the rain, shaking off their umbrellas and warming their hands around steaming cups of coffee. Leah sat at the corner table, a book spread open in front of her, though she wasn’t really reading it. Her eyes flickered to the door every few minutes, a subtle mix of anticipation and anxiety bubbling under her skin.

Ethan was late.

Not by much, but late enough that Leah couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling tugging at the back of her mind. She told herself she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t like they had set an exact time, and it wasn’t like she had any right to expect anything from him. But still, the unease lingered, gnawing at her.

The bell above the door chimed, and Leah’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up, but it wasn’t Ethan. A woman with a bright yellow raincoat walked in, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and made her way to the counter.

Leah sighed, closing her book with a soft thud. She glanced at her phone, but there were no new messages. Just the last one from Ethan, sent a few hours ago.

See you at the café later.

It wasn’t like him to bail without saying anything. Not that she knew him that well, but he didn’t strike her as the type to just disappear. Then again, maybe she had been wrong about him. Maybe this was his way of pulling back, of running again.

Before Leah could spiral further down that line of thought, the door swung open again. This time, it was Ethan. He stepped inside, his hair damp from the rain, and scanned the room before his eyes landed on her. His lips curved into a quick smile, but Leah noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way he seemed to hesitate before walking over.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he slid into the chair across from her. “Got caught up with something.”

Leah nodded, trying to hide the relief that washed over her. “No worries. I wasn’t waiting long.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, glancing at the empty coffee cup in front of her. “Looks like you’ve been here a while.”

Leah shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe a little.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the hum of the café filling the space between them. Leah could feel the shift in the air, something unspoken hanging over them. She could tell that whatever had made Ethan late wasn’t something small, but she didn’t know how to ask without pushing too hard.

“So,” Ethan said, leaning back in his chair. “How’s your day been?”

Leah wanted to smile at his attempt to act normal, like nothing was off, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. She studied his face, noticing the faint shadow under his eyes, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tightly.

“It’s been fine,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “How about yours?”

Ethan looked away, his fingers drumming on the table. “It’s been… a day.”

Leah leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she tried to catch his gaze. “A good day? A bad day?”

Ethan hesitated, his eyes flickering to the window for a moment before he sighed. “A complicated day.”

Leah’s brow furrowed. She wanted to press him for more, to ask what had happened, but something in his posture told her he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said quietly, her voice gentle. “But I’m here if you do.”

Ethan’s eyes softened at her words, and for a brief moment, Leah thought he might open up. But then he shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Maybe another time,” he said lightly, as if brushing it off would make it disappear. “Let’s just hang out. I could use the distraction.”

Leah nodded, though the unease in her chest remained. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she could feel the walls he had let down starting to rebuild themselves, brick by brick. It hurt more than she cared to admit.

They spent the next hour talking about nothing in particular—music, books, random stories from their childhoods. Ethan was good at deflecting, at keeping the conversation light and easy, but Leah could see the tension still lingering in his eyes, the way he seemed to be holding something back.

Eventually, the conversation lulled, and Leah found herself staring at him, wondering what it was that he was so afraid to share. She had seen glimpses of it before, in the way he avoided talking about his past, in the way he always seemed ready to leave at any moment. But today, it felt different. He felt different.

“Ethan,” Leah said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to keep running.”

Ethan looked at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her as if trying to figure something out. Then he let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it.

“I’m not running,” he said quietly, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

Leah leaned forward, her eyes searching his. “Yes, you are. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but don’t pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Leah thought he might get up and walk away. But instead, he let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of whatever he was carrying had finally become too much.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Letting someone in. Staying. It’s… it’s not what I’m used to.”

Leah’s heart softened at the vulnerability in his voice. She could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of being hurt, of letting someone get too close. It was a fear she understood all too well.

“You don’t have to have it all figured out,” she said gently. “I don’t either.”

Ethan looked at her, his eyes softening, though the tension in his shoulders remained. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” Leah said softly. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, the noise of the café fading into the background. Leah could feel the cracks in Ethan’s armor, the vulnerability he was so desperately trying to hide. She wanted to reach out, to tell him that it was okay to be afraid, that it was okay to let someone in. But she also knew that he had to make that choice for himself.

After a while, Ethan sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly. “And I feel like that’s all I know how to do.”

Leah’s chest tightened at his words, but she didn’t look away. “You won’t.”

Ethan met her gaze, his eyes filled with something raw and unspoken. For a moment, Leah thought he might say something more, but then he just shook his head, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m trying,” he said softly. “I really am.”

Leah smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “That’s all I can ask.”

They sat in silence for a while, the rain tapping softly against the window, neither of them knowing what to say next. But even in the quiet, Leah felt a shift—a small c***k in the wall Ethan had built around himself. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And for now, that was enough