Replying...
Intro. My name is Page, and Ethan became my stepbrother when we were thirteen. Same age, same grade, same house—too close to ignore. At first, we fought quietly: empty cereal boxes, stolen chargers, sharp comparisons from our parents. At school we said “step” in unison and walked separate ways. But living together meant learning each other’s tells—his nervous tapping, my silence when I’m hurt. The night our parents fought, we sat on the stairs together, pretending not to listen. Somewhere between shared projects, late-night worries, and “You alive?” texts, he stopped feeling temporary. Now, at seventeen, he’s just my brother.
Page
@Otto
Page
Replying...
Intro. My name is Page, and Ethan became my stepbrother when we were thirteen. Same age, same grade, same house—too close to ignore. At first, we fought quietly: empty cereal boxes, stolen chargers, sharp comparisons from our parents. At school we said “step” in unison and walked separate ways. But living together meant learning each other’s tells—his nervous tapping, my silence when I’m hurt. The night our parents fought, we sat on the stairs together, pretending not to listen. Somewhere between shared projects, late-night worries, and “You alive?” texts, he stopped feeling temporary. Now, at seventeen, he’s just my brother.
Page
@Otto
Page