The sound of sizzling filled the kitchen, sharp and rhythmic, the oil snapping against the pan as Jamie stirred the sauce with more force than necessary. His hair was a mess from the day, his sleeves rolled up, his lips pressed in a tight line that screamed irritation.
Jace sat at the counter, chin propped on his palm, watching his brother's movements with that amused, half-tired smile of his.
He'd come home from school about ten minutes ago and hadn't said much, knowing better than to talk when Jamie was in a mood. But the silence didn't last long, Jamie's moods never did.
"Stop staring at me like that." Jamie muttered, eyes on the pan.
"Like what?" Jace asked, feigning innocence.
"Like you're waiting for me to explode."
"I mean." Jace leaned forward, "you're stirring that sauce like it's the reason you're miserable."
Jamie slammed the spoon down. "I'm not miserable, and It's not the sauce's fault that some people are absolute jerks."
"Ah," Jace said, dragging the word out. "So we're talking about it now."
"There's nothing to talk about." Jamie replied sharply.
"Right." Jace nodded, a smirk forming.
Jamie's glare shot across the kitchen. "He started it."
"I'm sure he did."
"I'm serious, Jace! He just-he was there, okay? Standing there like he owned the damn place, with that face- ugh. And then he had the audacity to look at me like I was the problem!"
Jace bit back a laugh. "You sure you didn't just, you know, bump into him again by fate?"
Jamie whipped around, pointing the wooden spoon like a weapon. "Don't you dare say fate. There's nothing fateful about running into that overgrown, ego-filled—whatever he is."
"Well he is big, mean and kind of scary."
Jamie went quiet for a moment, turning back to his cooking. "He's got the personality of a punching bag."
Jace snorted. "Pretty sure that's not how personality works."
Jamie groaned. "I don't even know why he keeps showing up everywhere. It's like- like he's cursed or something. Or maybe I am."
"Or maybe he just really likes you." Jace shrugged
Jamie shot him a look so sharp it could've cut glass. "You think this is funny, don't you?"
"A little, yeah." Jace swung his legs off the stool and came over to peek at the pan. "Smells good, though. Angry cooking always hits different."
Jamie sighed, finally letting his shoulders relax a bit. "You're insufferable."
"Comes with being the younger, taller, and apparently more mature sibling."
Jamie scoffed. "You're sixteen."
"And you're twenty-one, but somehow I still feel like the adult here."
"Keep talking, and I'll smash your fucking face with this hot spatula." Jamie snapped.
Jace laughed, reaching out to ruffle his brothe's hair, earning a sharp slap to the hand. "Fine, fine. No touching the hair. Got it."
"And by the way, I'm going back to school for practice."
Jamie sighed. "Do you even have anytime to study at all with this amount of practice?. It's getting too much Jace, I don't want this to affect your grades."
"It won't, promise."
"You better keep that promise Jace."
They ate together at the table a few minutes later, the tension in Jamie's shoulders easing with each bite. For a while, it was quiet again, comfortable, familiar.
✧
Jett climbed out of the ring, pulling a towel from around his neck, another night, another win. Matt was already there, grin wide, waving a handful of cash like he'd just robbed a bank.
"Holy shit, man. You killed it. Third round knockout!"
"Barely." Jett said, tossing the towel over his shoulder. His voice was low, sandpaper rough.
Matt laughed, counting bills. "You saying that because you're modest or because your right hook almost took his head off?"
Jett smirked faintly. "He was slow."
"You're a freak of nature." Matt shoved the folded bills toward him. "Here. Your cut."
Jett glanced at the money but did't take it. "Keep it. Split it with the others."
Matt blinked. "What? Not again man, this is-"
"Matt." Jett's tone cut through the noise firmly. "Keep it."
Matt sighed, slipping the cash back into his pocket. "You're impossible, you know that? You fight like hell and don't even care about the prize."
"I care." Jett said, wiping his hands with the towel. "Just not about the money."
Matt gave him a look, half concern, half amusement. "Then what do you care about?"
Jett didn't answer. He grabbed his hoodie from the rail and pulled it on.
"Fine." Matt said, chuckling. "If you're done brooding, how about we go grab a milkshake? You look like you could use sugar."
Jett gave him a dry look.
"I don't feel like drinking a milkshake tonight."
"Wanna go drinking with the guys then?"
Jett exhaled, slipping his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Yeah."
"Good.'' Matt grinned, turning to call the others over. "Let's hit up Hector's. Drinks are on me, thanks to this idiot who refuses to take his cut.
✧
Leon slammed a glass down. 'To Jett, the man who doesn't miss!"
"Cheers." Troy said, clinking his glass lazily.
The bar was dim and smoky, crowded with laughter and cheap whiskey. The group had taken over a booth near the back, Jett, Matt, Leon, Troy, and Vince, already half-drunk.
Vince leaned back, grinning. "Nah, nah, to Jett, the man who fights like a demon and still looks like he could walk a runway."
"Shut up." Jett muttered, but there was the faintest pull at his mouth.
Matt snorted. "He's right though. You've got that mean, broody thing going on. Girls eat that shit up."
"I'm not interested."
Vince raised a brow. "You're not interested in anyone."
"Exactly."
They drank. Laughed. Hector's buzzed around them. By the time Matt's phone rang, the table was half-empty with glasses. He checked the screen and groaned.
"Charles. Shit, I forgot I told him I'd pick him up from practice."
"Your brother?" Leon asked.
"Yeah." Matt slid out of the booth. "You guys wanna tag along?. Fresh air might sober Vince up."
"Who says I'm drunk?" Vince said, slurring slightly.
✧
Outside, the cool night air slapped Jett's skin. The street was slick from rain, reflecting red and gold from the streetlights. They spotted Charles and another boy, Jace, by the curb, both in basketball uniforms, still laughing about something.
Charles waved when he saw them. "Matt!"
"Hey, kid." Matt threw an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Good game?"
"Yeah." Charles said, grinning.
"Hey Jace." Matt greeted.
"Hi." Jace returned, politely.
"Nice. You know these idiots already." Matt gestured at the group.
Charles nodded politely. Jace just smiled a little, quiet, polite, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.
"Need a ride home?" Matt offered.
Jace shook his head. "No, thanks. My brother's coming to get me."
"Oh, okay. Tell Jamie I said hi."
"Jamie?" one of the guys, Leon, asked, lighting a cigarette. "Your neighbor?'
"Yeah." Matt said.
"Oh, so you're his brother?" Vince piped in, studying Jace with a curious grin.
"Yes." Jace replied.
"How's he doing these days?" Troy asked.
"Good." Jace said simply.
Matt scoffed, these idiots saw him once. When Jamie had come knocking on his door to give him home made cookies as a 'thank you' for helping him repair his car. Ever since, he's been a topic between the three idiots.
And then the sound of tires screeching cut through the quiet. A familiar bright-colored car pulled up to the curb, headlights slicing through the mist. Jett's jaw clenched before his mind caught up.
Jamie.
"Bye Charles."
Jace jogged over, opened the door, and got in. Jamie didn't even look at them. Just shifted into gear and pulled off without a glance back.
Jett's chest tightened , an odd, sharp heat climbing up his neck.
"Does he always behave like that?." he asked, glaring after the car.
Matt frowned. "Do what?"
"Act like the world revolves around him, it's rude as fuck. There's literally six of us standing here and he didn't even bother to acknowledge any of us."
Matt chuckled. "You sound like a baby crying for attention."
"I do not fucking cry for attention." Jett snapped.
"You do ."
"That's not the fucking point!." Jett snapped.
"Exactly, that:s not the point," Vince said, grinning. "Matt, you promised me Jamie's number."
"Oh shut up. I can't give you his number without his consent."
Jett's head turned sharply. "Since when did you have his number?"
Matt blinked. "We're neighbors, man. My brother and his are friends. He helps me out sometimes, and vice versa. Of course I have his number." He deadpanned.
"Then give it to me." Vince said again, smirking.
"Did you not hear what I just said?" Matt shot back.
Jett scoffed, arms crossing. "Why are you even interested in him?"
"Because he's pretty as fuck, duh." Vince grinned.
"I agree with that statement," Leon said, exhaling smoke.
"Really?" Matt raised a brow. "You've seen him, what, once?"
"That was enough to take my breath away."
"Wait till you realize the words that come out of his mouth aren't as pretty as he looks." Jett muttered.
All of them turned to him, even Charles, still standing quietly by his brother.
"What?" Jett demanded.
"So you admit he's pretty." Matt teased.
"Like hell he is. He looks like a fucking rainbow vomit. If he was the last person on earth, I'd rather die than have to see a face like his." Jett scoffed out, shocking his friends into silence.
"Ain't you taking this a little personal?" Troy asked, voice calm, almost amused.
Jett clenched his jaw. "Whatever. I need a smoke."
Leon handed him one with a knowing smirk. "Here. For your nerves, lover boy."
"Fuck off."
Vince snickered. "Man, I've never seen you this pressed over someone before. Kinda entertaining."
Jett didn't reply. He lit the cigarette, inhaled deeply, eyes fixed on the spot where the car had disappeared. The taste of smoke burned down his throat, but it didn't quiet the irritation clawing in his chest.
Matt was still laughing about something, Troy talking low, Vince making more jokes. But Jett barely heard them.
His mind wouldn't stop circling back, the flash of red taillights, that sharp profile behind the wheel, the way Jamie hadn't even looked at him.
Didn't even look.
The thought stuck like glass in his throat.
He exhaled smoke, jaw tight.
What the hell was wrong with him?