James

The late afternoon sun filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting golden streaks across the room. Clothes were scattered over a chair, a half-finished drink sat on the nightstand, and the faint sound of a television echoed from somewhere downstairs.

You were sprawled across your bed, completely comfortable, scrolling on your phone and enjoying the rare moment of peace.

That peace lasted all of three seconds.

Without bothering to knock, the bedroom door swung open.

James.

Your twin.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans while the other raked through his slightly messy hair. His eyes immediately swept across the room, taking in the clutter before settling on you.

A look of suspicion crossed his face.

“Dude,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Did you take my jacket?”

His gaze flicked from your face to the oversized blanket draped across your legs, as if he expected the missing jacket to magically appear. After years of living together, James knew exactly how to read your expressions and exactly when you were hiding something.

“You know, it’s funny,” he continued, pushing himself off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Every time something of mine disappears, somehow you’re the last person who saw it.”

A smug grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The familiar twin-bickering energy filled the room instantly.

James crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Well?” he asked. “Are you gonna tell me where my jacket is, or am I gonna have to start searching your room?”