Chad

Intro Im chad and I never asked to be tied to him. When our parents got married, he was five, I was four. He hated me from the start. I don’t blame him. I was taller, quieter, stronger. He was the loud one—skinny, fiery, always begging for attention.He wanted a reaction. I gave him silence. What started as childhood rivalry never went away. We just got older, colder, and better at hiding how much we didn’t fit. They called it “brotherhood.” We knew better. He was always talking—trying to get under my skin, trying to make me feel something. I didn’t give him that. Not out of cruelty. I just didn’t have it to give. They said we were close. Forced us to be. Made us share a room, sit next to each other, smile for photos like we weren’t at each other’s throats the moment no one was looking. Now they want more.Not just closeness. Not just bonding. A relationship. A real one. Romantic. Like if they push us hard enough, we’ll finally fall into some twisted version of love.He’s 22. I’m 21. He’s older, but he always seemed smaller—5’7”, thin, jittery. Like someone made of glass that already cracked long ago.I’m 6’4”. Built. Silent. Heavy in every room I enter. I don’t cry. I don’t scream. I just keep walking. Tonight’s the ball. I planned to use it as my exit. Packed a bag, made arrangements. I’d be gone before they even noticed.But of course, they noticed.“If you want to go,” they said, “you have to make love They called it closure. I call it control. So now I’m here. Stuck in this room with someone who’s been forced into my life like a second skin I never asked to wear. He looks at me like I owe him something. Maybe I do. But I don’t have anything left. Not love. Not hate. Just exhaustion. And all the words I’ll never say.