"Phineas, is something wrong?" Ferb asked his brother, concern imbuing his voice with an uncharacteristic urgency. They were in their shared room, the walls filled with blueprints and mementos of summers past—testaments to their perpetual enthusiasm. Ferb had come home to find Phineas sitting on his bed, head buried in his hands. The sigh that escaped Phineas's lips was the heaviest Ferb had ever heard. All of this was so very anti-Phineas; he was a beacon of positivity. Seeing him so subdued was jarring, akin to witnessing a sunset without its shine.

Phineas looked up, his eyes not just misty but clouded, as though a fog had rolled in over his usual vibrant gaze. His lips were curled into a frown that seemed so foreign on his usually cheerful face. "I dunno, Ferb," he sighed, the weight of his words sinking into the air between them. "I haven't really felt like myself lately…" he trailed off. Ferb sensed that nudging might be necessary to unveil the full scope of his brother's thoughts.

"You know you can always tell me anything, Phineas," Ferb assured him, patting his brother's shoulder with a comforting touch, a soft counterpoint to the tension that filled the room.

Phineas hesitated, feeling as if his heart were an anchor, pulling him further into an emotional abyss. He looked down at his feet, clad in his familiar triangle-patterned socks, trying to ground himself. Yet, he felt so detached, as though he was a mere observer of his own life. It was unnerving; Phineas and Ferb had always been an open book to one another, yet now he struggled to find the words to express... this.

Truth be told Phineas had been having weird feelings since their school year started. Their parents always told them they'd hit a point where things changed and they had emotions they never had before, but Phineas didn't think they'd be bad emotions, emotions that left him wanting to stay in bed in the morning. They were 14, but it didn't seem that long ago that everything was just so carefree.

Gathering the strands of his courage, Phineas finally met Ferb's eyes, trying to verbalize the nebulous feelings clouding his heart. "Well… You know how this summer all our friends were pretty busy?" Ferb nodded, his eyes never wavering from his brother's face. "I feel like the summer just slipped through our fingers. It didn't feel the same. Baljeet and Buford were off at camp, and their tales were amusing, no doubt. But even Isabella wasn't around, I can't remember a summer without her, Ferb, I just… I just…" His voice wavered, cracking under the strain of his unspoken emotions. Saying more would be like breaching a dam, allowing a flood of tears to escape.

"You miss her then?" Ferb asked. Isabella had been Phineas's friend since they were in diapers. He had noticed she didn't show up much this summer, and when she did she seemed to happily take a background role, being quiet, and talking when spoken to. Withdrawn. Ferb didn't feel like it was his place to inquire, but he was starting to regret it now, Isabella was his friend too, he should have asked her if something was wrong. Ferb didn't like it, but he also felt a flash of anger, for just a moment. Isabella's absence had hurt his brother. It made him frustrated, even if she had a good reason, he didn't like the ugly emotion, but denying it wasn't going to help.

"Yea…." Phineas sighed. "Summer just isn't the same without her. She's so busy though I don't wanna bother her to hang out all the time." Phineas got really quiet for a moment. The silence in the room was palpable.

Ferb tightened his grip on Phineas's shoulder, offering physical assurance to accompany his words. "Asking a friend to spend time with you isn't selfish, Phineas. It's what friends do."

"I know Ferb…." Phineas looked at the floor again, contemplating whether to tread into even more sensitive territory. He could barely bring himself to think about it before he found his heart racing, let alone tell someone. "Ferb…. Can I tell you something? You really have to promise this stays between us."

Ferb couldn't help but smile a little at the formality. "You know the answer is always yes." It was true—they were brothers, after all. The question was indeed rhetorical, but it served its purpose in offering Phineas the comfort he so desperately needed.

"I…." Phineas took a deep breath. "I think I have a crush on Isabella."

"..." Ferb blinked. "I'm sorry could you say that again?"

"It's stupid, isn't it? Crushing on my best friend pshh." Phineas threw his head back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as though it might offer some kind of solace. "I bet I said something that made her uncomfortable. Should just be happy to stay friends."

The silence once again hung in the air. Neurons inside Ferb's head fired faster than light. In theory, this should be cause for celebration; Phineas and Isabella were like two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly complementary. Isabella had harbored feelings for Phineas for years, a secret Ferb had safeguarded. He'd felt it was neither his burden nor his right to intervene, that they needed to discover this truth organically, together. But witnessing his brother's emotional upheaval, he began questioning his passive approach. Would a gentle nudge in the past have been more beneficial?

Yet, Ferb wavered on how to proceed. It seemed ethically murky to divulge Isabella's feelings to Phineas without her consent. But Ferb also knew that the knowledge could potentially alleviate his brother's emotional turmoil. In a different context, if Phineas had confided this in high spirits, Ferb would have jovially called him oblivious. Now, however, such bluntness felt inappropriate.

"Your feelings aren't absurd," Ferb said cautiously, choosing his words with the precision of a surgeon. "Isabella has been your best friend for years; she's intelligent and self-assured. There's no fault in you harboring deeper feelings for her. And, knowing Isabella, it's unlikely she'd hold it against you."

"Thank you, Ferb." A genuine smile finally illuminated Phineas's face, chasing away some of the shadows that had taken residence there. "I think I'll get an early start on homework, clear my mind for a bit."

"Certainly," Ferb nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I forgot to put my bike away when I came home." As he made his way to the door, he returned for a brief, but deeply felt hug. "Remember, you can always confide in me."

"I love you, bro."

"And I you," Ferb replied, his voice tinged with a warmth that words could scarcely encapsulate.


Isabella was stuck on the first paragraph of her history essay when her mother called up to her that one of her friends was there. Which was weird, cause the old Fireside Girls team usually didn't bother her on weeknights when a big assignment was due. She couldn't think of anyone who would come by to see her.

In the fall the house outside her room was always very cold, her mom always told her she ran that she ran hot and needed a chilled home, but that meant anytime Isabella left her room she needed to throw on extra layers. With an exasperated sigh, Isabella grabbed a sweater before descending the staircase to meet her enigmatic guest.

"Good evening, Isabella," Ferb greeted her formally. "Might you have a moment for conversation?"

They ended up sitting outside in the backyard under a tree. It was kinda nostalgic. Autumn leaves dangled precariously from the branches, as if on the cusp of surrendering to the pull of gravity. "Sooooooo, what brings you here?" Isabella began awkwardly. Her conversations with Ferb had been scarce recently, the ease of their past camaraderie seeming like a distant memory.

Ferb looked into her eyes intently, as though attempting to peer into her soul. "I could ask you the same question," he replied softly, unsettling her with the intensity of his gaze.

"I've been occupied with school, and I've also been volunteering at the pet shelter with Ginger," she stuttered, averting her eyes from his penetrating stare to hug her knees and focus on the ground beneath her. When did conversing with lifelong friends become so complicated?

"We've all found ways to occupy ourselves," Ferb intoned, pausing for effect. "Baljeet's engrossed in advanced courses, Buford's caring for his grandmother. But you know it really was good of them to make the time to stop by and hang out during the summer when they got the chance."

The words stung, the accusation implicit in his words. Confronted by the unmistakable implication, Isabella couldn't muster the strength to look at him or offer an excuse. She felt trapped in the heavy silence, paralyzed by her own emotions and Ferb's unspoken judgment.

"I don't mean to accuse you," Ferb finally broke the silence, his voice softened. "But if something's amiss, you could talk to us." A pause. "We miss you." And although the sentiment was general, it was clear whom he was referring to—Phineas missed her.

"Oh, Ferb…" was all she could stammer, drawing herself into a tighter self-embrace, an inadequate shield against the torrent of emotions that swept through her. She felt a hand touch her shoulder, glanced up to see Ferb with a concerned look on his face. He hadn't just come there to make her feel bad. "I didn't want to hurt him." she managed, her face twisting to hold back emotion.

"I don't understand. Hurt him how?"

"You know how I felt about him. It only got worse I love him Ferb." She found herself speaking faster and faster. "But he doesn't feel the same way, and I didn't wanna ruin our friendship, I didn't want to make things hard for him so I…" She took a deep breath to try and steady herself, but it didn't really help. "I thought if I spent some time away, I could get my feelings under control and then I could come back and just be his friend."

Ferb regarded her solemnly, then asked, "That strategy hasn't alleviated your turmoil, has it?"

"No," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It made it worse, but I can't just go back now and pretend everything is normal. You being here now, I hurt him anyway didn't I?" Isabella felt guilt strike her heart, in trying to avoid hurting Phineas she hurt him even more.

Ferb nodded. "Isabella, and I mean this with the love a brother has for a sister. You've been a complete bellend."

Ferb rarely indulged in coarse language. His demeanor was that of a consummate gentleman, so when he ventured into bluntness, the impact was seismic. "I've botched it, haven't I?" Isabella muttered, her eyes downcast, her voice a blend of regret and resignation.

Ferb debated his next move. He was on thin ice, if he said too much now he'd give away his brothers' feelings which he swore not to do. Even if it would make things better, his word was his bond. "You and Phineas share a friendship that most could only dream of attaining," he finally said, his voice tinged with both melancholy and conviction. "I'm not here to levy accusations or guilt. I'm here because I want nothing more than for the two of you to find the happiness you both so rightfully deserve."

"You're right." Isabella used her sleeve to wipe away forming tears. "You're right. I've been a fool, but feeling sorry for myself won't fix it." She turned her body towards Ferb, and hesitated to hug him, but quickly found herself wrapped in a hug from him. Ferb was always good at reading people. "Thank you, Ferb."

"No thanks are necessary," he replied, pulling away from the hug just enough to look into her eyes. His voice took on a light-hearted timbre, yet beneath it lay a foundation of sincere care. "I'm simply fulfilling my role as a friend."


"Phineas! Your friend is here!"

Phineas was jolted from his intense concentration on calculus problems by his mother's voice echoing through the house. Odd. He was under the impression that all of his friends were occupied today. Who could possibly be dropping by unannounced? Shaking off the cobwebs of mathematical equations, he set his pencil down with meticulous care and closed his textbook. Descending the staircase with a leisurely grace, he rounded the corner into the foyer—only to freeze in his tracks.

"Hi, Phineas." Isabella stood there, her smile as radiant as ever, almost as though it had the power to illuminate the room. "Got time for a walk?"

For a heartbeat, Phineas was rendered speechless. There she was—his childhood friend, his confidante, dressed in a cozy purple sweater and a stylish autumnal skirt with matching tights. At that moment, his mind stumbled to catch up with the reality before him. Finally, snapping back to coherence, he stammered, "Y-Yeah, sure, a walk sounds good. Let me just grab a sweater."

The crisp embrace of the fall air was invigorating, rousing Phineas from the soporific warmth of his room. They walked in companionable silence, each lost in a labyrinth of their own thoughts until they found themselves seated on a weathered public bench.

"Phineas, I owe you an apology," Isabella finally broke the ice, the words wrenched from deep within her like an exorcism of guilt.

"Apology? For what?" Phineas' confusion was palpable.

"I've been avoiding you," she faltered, acutely aware that she'd just opened a Pandora's box of emotional intricacies.

"Oh..." Phineas felt a quickening pulse, a crescendo of anxiety. His earlier suspicions were confirmed; he had been oblivious to some wrongdoing on his part. "Isabella, I'm really sorry," he said, regret saturating his voice.

"Why are you apologizing?" she queried, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Did I make you uncomfortable? I know I can be pretty clueless sometimes, so... I'm sorry," he reiterated, drowning in self-reproach.

"Phineas, you've done nothing wrong. I'm the one who should apologize for making you feel this way."

"Then...why?" Confusion laced his words, struggling to understand her motivations for avoidance.

Isabella inhaled deeply, contemplating her next steps. "I don't know if I'm ready for this." Her voice was barely above a whisper, after she spoke she felt something soft being pressed into her palm. Looking down, she saw that Phineas had discreetly placed a small, circular cloth patch into her hand

"Remember when you gave that to me?" Phineas inquired.

Isabella looked closer to the patch. "The emotional bravery patch…" That night had been the scariest in her entire life. She still had nightmares. She remembered the pharmacists slowly turning all her friends into mindless zombies, and she remembered struggling that whole day to be honest with Phineas.

"I've kept it in my pocket ever since. Whenever I needed a shot of confidence or a touch of bravery, I'd look at it. It reminded me that I could face anything," he paused, locking eyes with her, "including this conversation. Isabella, whatever you have to say, know that I'll always be your friend. I will always care about you."

As he spoke, Isabella felt the walls she'd carefully constructed around her emotions begin to crumble. The dam broke, and she spoke with an earnestness she hadn't felt in a long time. "Phineas, the reason I avoided you was that I didn't want to hurt you. I've been in love with you since middle school!" Her voice, louder than she'd intended, reverberated in the open air, filling the space between them with a heavy but liberating silence.

"Since middle school?" Phineas echoed, momentarily dumbstruck. His cheeks began to color as realization dawned. "Oh, man, I've been an idiot," he laughed nervously, embarrassment mingling with a newfound elation.

"I should've told you. Can we still be friends?"

Phineas took a moment to choose his words, a rarity for a young man usually guided by spontaneous inspiration. "You said your plan to avoid me didn't work, right? You still have those feelings?"

"Yes, but it's okay if you don't—" Isabella was cut off by Phineas pulling her into a fervent hug "P-Phineas!"

"I can tell you one thing. Having you not around this summer made me realize how much I want you in my life." His voice finally betrayed his joy. "Isabella!" He pulled back from the hug, holding her shoulders, and looked her right in the eye. "I love you too!"

Isabella blinked. He…. loved her? She looked at him, trying to judge if this was some sort of weird dream if she had let herself slip into Phineas-land. His hand squeezing hers assured her that she was in fact in reality. This moment was everything she had ever wanted, and she was stunned, unsure how to process what was happening.

"Isabella, are you okay?" Phineas's voice punctured her reverie, pulling her back into the tangible world.

"Y-Yes, I am. I just... never thought this moment would come," she admitted her smile a luminous reflection of her internal joy. And as if on cue, Phineas returned her smile, his eyes twinkling with a light she'd only ever seen in her dreams.

"Phineas," she hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding like a drum, "may I kiss you?"

Phineas's face lit up, an incandescent glow of astonishment and delight. It was a reaction he'd never anticipated. Of course, the notion of kissing Isabella had crossed his mind ever since he realized his feelings for her, but never in this context, never so soon. "Yes," he beamed, the word a burst of pure, unabashed elation, "yes, you can."

It didn't last long, they were both too embarrassed to really do anything other than a peck, especially in public. In her mind, Isabella had choreographed this scene a thousand times, imagining explosions of fireworks in an otherworldly spectacle of passion and love. But the reality? It was far better than any illusion her imagination had ever conjured. It was the difference between a snapshot and a living, breathing moment—between a dream and a cherished reality.


Hand in hand, they walked home in a silence punctuated only by stolen glances and embarrassed smiles. Honestly, they were a mess, barely able to look at each other from just holding hands, but they were both happy. As they reached Phineas's doorstep, a certain inertia set in. Phineas's hand remained interlaced with Isabella's, unwilling to break the physical link that had become a lifeline of sorts.

He looked at her, mind racing for words, something anything, to extend this moment in time. Isabella too scrambled to find some excuse to stay a moment longer.

It was then that the door creaked open. Ferb appeared with an impish grin on his face and a cup of tea in hand. "Well, it's about time," he said, sipping his tea with exaggerated relish. The sound was almost a punctuation mark to the couple's unsaid thoughts.

"Ferb!" Both Phineas and Isabella blurted in unison, their faces a harmony of annoyance and surprise.

"You'd better come in. It's getting dark out," Ferb advised, pivoting gracefully and retreating into the warm glow of the house.

There was still hesitation on Phineas's part to let go of the moment.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Ferb interjected once again, his voice tinged with brotherly impatience. "I told Mom to prepare extra for dinner. Just invite her in."

Blushes once again flushing their cheeks the two stepped into the warm home together.

"I just realized," Phineas began, swallowing hard, "we're going to be the targets of relentless teasing."

Isabella squeezed his hand gently, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of delight and playful apprehension. "Well, at least we can endure it together."

"Yes," Phineas returned her squeeze, his eyes meeting hers in a moment of shared understanding, "yes, we can."


Author Note: Just couldn't imagine the group of friends Phineas and Isabella have letting them drift apart, especially Ferb. Hope you enjoy this one, reviews are always appreciated.