Hello, and thanks for clicking on this story!

I hope you enjoy my random few-shot. Fye wanted to write something more, to keep in practice, and when looking through some old stories, I suddenly came up with this new thought.

As is obvious to any intelligent creature, I own nothing but this plot, and the words in it.

Review if you like!

~Fye

There was a time when we played together every day as kids.

Those were the good days - laughing so hard your sides hurt, always you were laughing. I think you were made for it, you with your shining eyes and curving lips, and you were so hearty and healthy unlike me. I was the older by a year, and yet, when I was six and you were five, the top of my head reached only up to your hairline.

And every day after we'd fool around, when kindergarten was closed for the day, you'd call me 'onii-chan', just so I'd feel better about myself. You'd say "I won't see you before bed today, because there's homework, and I'm helping mom today. So,

Goodnight!"

"Goodnight," I'd answer.

"I love you," you'd add. "Onii-chan."

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

We grew older, passed our stressing tweens, and reached our even more stressing teens.

Those were the good days - talking about girls and essays, begging each other to help cheat in our better homework subjects. Around this time, I remember, you began to wear a headband, tying it under your dark blue bangs, that hair which always defied gravity; lying flat here, sticking up there. Sometime then I liked a brunette, a popular girl, and you laughed at my tastes, laughed like you always did.

You used to come home with me back then, and we'd study together. You became even taller, so that soon you nearly dwarfed me. The top of my head reached your eyebrows, unless you'd lift them, which bothered me. Just a little. To see your face better, I'd look up. But that set my heart to thudding. I didn't like that much. And yet, still every evening you'd leave, saying,

"Goodnight"

"Goodnight," I'd say in an offhand way.

"I love you," you continued, "bro." And my heart would speed up, then stop suddenly at the final word. Still, I said nothing, letting you have the last word.