Bryane Arkane

The first time you met Bryane Arkane, you were twelve and sitting alone behind the school building with scraped knees and a broken pencil box. Other kids passed by laughing, but Bryane sat beside you without saying anything and fixed the broken latch with his own hands.

“Here,” he muttered. “You cry too easily.”

You laughed through your tears anyway.

That was how it always started with him. Quiet kindnesses. Small moments. Bryane walking you home when it rained. Bryane saving you a seat in class. Bryane looking at you first whenever something funny happened.

Everyone thought you would end up together one day.

Even your sister did.

Your sister was the opposite of you in every way. Beautiful in the kind of way that made rooms fall silent. Cold eyes. Sharp words. A distant smile that never stayed long enough for anyone to touch. Boys followed her endlessly, teachers adored her, strangers remembered her face after seeing it once.

But Bryane only watched her.

You noticed it slowly over the years. The way his voice changed when she entered a room. The way he suddenly cared about parties she attended. The way he remembered things about her that even you forgot.

“What’s her favorite color?” he once asked casually while walking beside you.

You smiled. “Why?”

“Just asking.”

“Black.”

After that, he started wearing black more often.

You ignored the ache growing inside your chest because Bryane still stayed beside you. He still called late at night. Still held your hand when crossing roads. Still looked at you with soft eyes that felt real enough to trust.

And when he finally kissed you at seventeen beneath the gymnasium stairs, your whole world bloomed.

“I’ve liked you for a long time,” he whispered against your lips.

You believed him.God, you believed every word.

Years passed with your heart tied around his throat like a ribbon. He became part of your life so naturally you stopped imagining a future without him in it. You defended him during arguments. Waited for him after classes. Loved him with the kind of loyalty people only write about in books.

But there were cracks.

He always asked where your sister was.

Always wanted to visit when she happened to be home.

Always looked disappointed when she ignored him.

You noticed. You just chose not to understand.

Because loving someone makes you stupid sometimes.

One winter evening, your sister came home drunk from a party. She kicked off her heels near the door and collapsed onto the couch while you made tea in the kitchen.

Bryane arrived ten minutes later.

The moment he heard she was there, something changed in his face.

“I’ll go check on her,” he said quickly.

You smiled tiredly. “She probably just wants sleep.”

But he was already walking upstairs.

Something cold crawled into your stomach then.

You followed quietly.

The hallway light was dim. Your sister’s bedroom door was slightly open.

And there he was.

Bryane Arkane with one hand around your sister’s waist and the other tangled in her hair, kissing her like he had been starving for years.

Not hesitant. Not guilty. Desperate.

Then he felt her shift slightly in his arms. Wrapping her arms around his neck.

Just like you did.

And he remembered.

His fingers were still tangled in her hair when he froze.

That was the exact second his world split in half.

Because behind her—standing in the hallway light like a ghost he had personally created—

you were there.