The sound of rain against the window reminds me of a scene I did once—a quiet moment between two characters sharing secrets in a storm. It was during my first year in theatre, back when everything felt like magic, when I thought playing someone else could make me forget who I was.

I sit cross-legged on my bed, the faint scent of rosewater perfume lingering in the room. My desk is covered in lines I've been trying to memorize for an audition. Well, trying and failing. I've read the monologue a dozen times today, but my mind keeps drifting to Dariel.

After the dinner, Minho predicted that his older brother wanted to stay the night. He offered to run back home, or maybe borrow a bike. Dariel heavily protested, insisting he shouldn't be out in the dark. I smile every time I remember the moment. Usually, Dariel doesn't show Minho his soft side. Minho looked very happy after we decided he could sleep on the couch.

"Come here," Dariel whispers from the bed. "You've been studying for too long."

"But the audition is tomorrow! I need to remember these lines—"

"You need to rest as well. The auditions are in the evening. You have plenty of time tomorrow. I can help you."

"Yes, right now," I demand. "I won't be able to sleep if I don't know the lines." 

Dariel stretches. "Alright, where are we starting?"

I point to the page, excitement bubbling up despite my nerves. "The drive-in scene. You're Danny, I'm Sandy."

He scans the page, and when he starts reading, his tone is surprisingly... Danny-like.

"Why don't you just let me lead, for a change?"

I glance down, pretending to fiddle with my hands, then look up shyly. "Just because you're a big strong guy, you think you can push people around."

"I'm not pushing."

I narrow my eyes. "Yes, you are." My arms fold over my chest. "You're always trying to make me be what you want me to be."

He pauses with an offended glare. "Okay, but Danny totally deserves that. He's kind of a jerk here—"

"You're ruining the scene! This is serious! I need to practice!"

"Hey, I'm just saying. Sandy's right—"

"Dariel," I groan, trying to pull him back into it. "Come on, let's do it right."

He rolls his eyes but lifts the script again. Dramatically, Dariel pretends to sneeze, his arm wrapping around me in the process.

"Oh, I hope you're not getting a cold," I say, worried.

"Oh, no. No. It's just probably a little drive-in dust, that's all." He waves with his hand, then leans closer to the script, frowning. "Danny raises his arm and moves it closer to her chest. Just when he's about to put his hand against her breast, Sandy grabs it," he reads. "What the hell? They're actually putting that scene in?"

"Yes. Now help me practice."

Still half weirded-out, Dariel does as the instructions say. I grab his hand with a loud gasp. "Danny!"

He pushes me down on the bed without hesitation, just like the script told him to do. "Sandy! Oh, sandy!" His lips smash against mine.

"Danny, what are you doing?" I kick against him.

"Oh, sandy! Don't worry about it, nobody's watching!"

I push him off me, hopping off the bed. "Danny, get off me!"

"Sandy, what's the matter with you?" He reads out loud. "I thought I meant something to you."

"Meant something to you? You think I'm gonna stay here with you in this..." I look at the bed, that's supposed to be a car in the real scene. "Sand wagon?"

I run off towards the door. "You can't walk out of a drive-in!" Dariel calls after me.

"Alright," I sigh out as I snap out of the role. "That was decent, I guess. We need to do it again tomorrow. I have a few more scenes we should practice, but perhaps we should do this scene one more time first."

He looks like he's about to protest, but nods. "Yes, ma'am. Did I do well?"

"Mhm. I'd almost tell you to audition, too."

A chuckle leaves him before we get back into the scene. Once again, he subtly wraps his arm around me while sneezing.

"Oh, Sandy!" Pushing me back down on the bed, he kisses me. I protest even more than the first time, yelping and crying out. Tomorrow, I should give my best performance. I need this role.

Dariel's fingers move slowly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my side. It distracts me from what I'm supposed to say according to the script. It's a touch that seems innocent enough, but I can feel it all the way through to my chest, where my heart pounds faster.

I swallow hard. Try to focus on the lines in front of me, but the words blur as his breath brushes against my ear. "Do you think I'll do okay tomorrow?" I whisper.

"You'll do amazing. You've been practicing for weeks. You've got this."

His thumb rubs across my knuckles, a soft rhythm. Closing my eyes, I force myself to forget about the audition. I forget about the lines and the pressure. The amount of hours I spent practicing.

I want to respond, but I can't find the words. Instead, I let my body lean into his, the space between us shrinking until there's no distance at all. He pulls away slightly, as if checking to see if I'm okay with it.

I nod. My hands tremble as I touch the side of his face, my thumb running over the edge of his jaw. His hand slides around my back, pulling me closer again. His kiss deepens.

The heat between us rises. I'm not thinking about the audition anymore at all, not thinking about anything except the way his touch makes me feel alive. He slips his hands under my shirt, skin against skin. I exhale at the sudden contact.

I trace the lines of his chest, his muscles hard through the shirt that he soon removes—along with every other thing.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

In the morning, Minho sits across from us, taking harsh bites from his cereal.

"Would you eat with your mouth closed?" Dariel wonders. "That sound is horrifying."

"You want to know what sounds I think are horrifying?" He responds dryly.

Dariel's mouth opens, but he closes it again, rubbing his eyelids with two fingers. I avert my gaze, my skin crimson.

"This is why I didn't want to ask to eat dinner here."

"It's not like this happens every time," Dariel responds calmly. "Just pretend you never heard anything. We didn't mean to... disturb you. Besides, half of it was us rehearsing a scene."

"Trust me, I could easily tell apart what was in the scene or not," Minho assures, his tone dramatically sweet as he tilts his head to the side. "Whatever," he then mutters. "I should go to school. Can someone drop me off?"

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

After my audition, I order a coffee with shaking hands. Mom and Dad got back home late in the evening last night, and already left for work during breakfast. But now, when I return, both cars are parked.

"Hi, honey," Mom greets me immediately. "How did the audition go?"

"Quite well, I think." I shrug. My chest tightens at the thought of getting the results back. I'm not ready to feel the disappointment. Dad is in the kitchen, cooking dinner, and Dariel jumps up from his seat at the table.

"Hey, what are you still doing here?" I throw my head back, smiling.

"Thought I'd hear how the audition went in real life." He kisses me, then trails a pair of concerned eyes over my face. "So? It went well?"

I nod. "I think so. Are you staying for dinner?"

"Uh-huh."

"Awesome." All of us gather around the table. One seat is left—it's my sister's. Teresa is four years older than me. She currently lives in Colombia, with a great job and all. I don't see her often. Maybe I will in the summer vacation.

The subjects we talk about are nothing too interesting. Dariel's work life and family, how my parents' date went, and what I did throughout the day. After dinner, Dariel and I make our way upstairs.

"I've been thinking," I start. "I mean, before the tradition, I had to keep my mind on something else. So I thought about the way we rehearsed and how fun being with you actually is. We've already been thinking about buying a place for ourselves, but I think we should act on it for real now."

Not as surprised as I expected him to be, he nods. "Oh, definitely. Would you want an apartment or a house?"

"I think apartments are cheaper. We shouldn't start too big. Surely there's something out there for us."

"Yes," I agree. For a second, silence falls before I sigh. "But what about Minho? Isn't he often home alone already? With you out of the house, he'll be completely alone."

"He's our mom's favorite. She won't leave his side, trust me. He prefers staying at Mom's anyway. I don't think it matters that much to him. He'll be happy I'm gone."

"Why would you say that?" My eyebrows scrunch. "Of course he's not happy."

"He doesn't like me," Dariel states.

"Yes, he does. He might not show it, but he does."

"No, no. Trust me, he doesn't." His teeth clench together while he chuckles, as if this is humorous. "Ever since last year, he hates me."

"It's probably just because he had to repeat a year at school—"

"Not a school year ago. Literally a year ago." Dariel sits down on my bed, the wood creaking below his weight. "I'm not sure what's going on with him."

"That was around the time we started dating. Maybe he feels neglected because you suddenly started seeing me more often than him?"

Dariel falls silent. His gaze drops to the ground. "Around the time we started dating," he murmurs. When he looks back up, his jaw is clenched again. "Right."

"What?"

"I think he might like you a bit too much. Actually, it's obvious."

I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Am I supposed to feel honored or should I think it's disgusting? Maybe I should see it as something... cute? I don't know. Even if Dariel is right, it doesn't mean Minho has a gigantic crush on me. I just caught his eye.

So I tell Dariel that.

"Yeah, probably." He nods in agreement. "He'll get over it."

It doesn't make sense, not really. He's so quiet, withdrawn in a way that makes me wonder if he even knows how to express himself. That's the difficult thing about Minho. He could be thinking all types of things and I'd never find out which thing is right. Maybe he doesn't even like me, so that's why he's acting weird.

The whole idea feels odd. Minho is Dariel's younger brother—someone I've known for years, but only as an extension of Dariel. We've never been close.

"I don't know, Dariel," I say. "I hope not. Either way, I don't want to make things worse for him."

"Worse for him? He's fine. He'll be fine, Lucy."

I hesitate, unsure whether I should say more. The idea of Minho harboring feelings for me doesn't sit right.

"I know you care. But we can't go around tiptoeing just because someone else might get hurt while that's on them," Dariel adds. "Don't worry about it."

Minho

January 29th
08:17 PM

How did the audition go?

Good! Thanks for asking. I'll let you know when I get the results.

That's great
You'll be great

Minho

??

We're okay, right? Nothing weird between us?

Obviously? Did something happen?

No, I don't think so. I was just wondering.

Oh, that's fine. I'm not the one who's dealing with all that stuff

What stuff?

You know
The whole audition
You're going to be busy
And I, idk
Homework ig
Yay
Anyway, I guess I'll see you later