My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}

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"You never could have known," I said softly. "You were just a kid trying to survive him, Ethan. That’s all you were doing. The fact that this hurts you so much, that it’s tearing you apart right now, shows you’re nothing like him. You have every right to feel sick about it. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to mourn the uncle you wanted him to be, even if that person never really existed."

He finally lifted his head. His eyes were wet, lashes clumped together, blue irises searching mine like I had the answers he needed.

"I keep thinking, if I’d said something sooner," he whispered. "If I’d pushed back harder when I was younger, told my parents I didn’t want him to be my guardian, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe Logan never would have moved into Willow Haven. Maybe Joanne would still be alive. Maybe Adrien wouldn’t have grown up with that hole inside him. I was just... scared. All the time. And now it feels like I let so much happen because I was too afraid to speak up. Like I allowed it all to happen because I was scared of him. I see that now."

The guilt in his voice was so old and heavy it felt like it was bringing him down.

I squeezed his arm gently. "You were a child," I reminded him, keeping my voice steady even though my throat felt tight. "You were just surviving him, that’s not the same as enabling him. You didn’t know what he was capable of. And even if some tiny part of you had suspected, what could you have done? He controlled everything, your home, your money, your safety, your whole world. You’re not to blame for his choices, Ethan. You never were."

I gave his arm another light squeeze. "What matters is what you’re doing now. You didn’t run, you stayed. And you’re helping us find the truth. That’s what counts."

For a long moment he just looked at me, his eyes shimmering. Then he slowly dropped his head until his forehead rested against my shoulder. It wasn’t quite a full embrace, just a quiet surrender, a moment of letting himself be held up instead of feeling like he had to hold everything together alone.

I wrapped one arm loosely around his back, my hand resting between his shoulder blades, fingers fanned out against the warmth of his shirt. We stood like that for several heartbeats, breathing in sync, the night air cool against my skin while his warmth seeped through my clothes.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this, having him close, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, the familiar shape of his shoulders under my palm. Even after everything, even with the distance we’d put between us, this still felt like coming home in the midst of a storm.