Simon didn't sleep.
He lay in bed long after Elena left his room, her scent still clinging faintly to his sheets—lavender shampoo and vanilla lotion and something else he could never quite name. A heat still burned low in his chest, not just from the kiss they shared again, but from the words that came before it:
"Then let it change."
She'd said it. She'd meant it. And now, nothing felt steady.
Morning sunlight bled through the blinds, turning the room into a wash of gold and shadow. The weight of the night hung over him—equal parts exhilaration and guilt.
They weren't blood. Not really siblings.
But the world wouldn't see it that way.
Neither would Eddie.
Or Mom.
Or the dozen friends and classmates who'd grown up seeing Simon and Elena side by side, like family.
Simon sat up, running a hand through his hair. The apartment was quiet, too quiet. That Sunday hush where no one wants to move too fast in case the world notices something's changed.
And something had.
Elena was already in the kitchen when he emerged.
She wore one of her oversized sweatshirts, sleeves pulled halfway over her hands, and sipped from a coffee mug like it was the only thing anchoring her to the ground.
Her eyes flicked up as he entered. She didn't smile.
Simon didn't either.
He sat across from her, letting the silence stretch.
"You okay?" he asked finally.
"I don't know," she murmured. "I can't stop thinking about it."
"Last night?"
She nodded. "What we said. What we did. It's like the more I try to remind myself it's wrong, the more right it feels."
He swallowed hard. "We're not doing anything wrong."
She looked at him then, gaze steady. "You believe that?"
"I do."
Elena looked away. "I want to believe it too."
They stayed like that for a long time—silent, still, spinning in the invisible storm between them.
The knock on the door shattered it.
Three hard raps. Familiar. Confident.
Elena's eyes widened. "That's Eddie."
Simon's stomach dropped.
Elena stood quickly, brushing her hair back with shaking fingers. She moved toward the door and opened it just as Simon slipped back into the hallway.
"Hey!" Eddie's voice boomed in that too-loud, too-carefree way. "Surprise visit. I brought bagels."
"Oh," Elena said, recovering quickly. "That's… nice."
Simon listened from the hall, heart thudding. He shouldn't have cared. He should've hated Eddie. But the truth was worse.
He felt like he was stealing something from someone who didn't even know it was missing.
Simon retreated to his room, the door cracked open just enough to hear the rise and fall of voices from the kitchen. Eddie's laugh. Elena's forced giggle. The clink of mugs.
The world hadn't fallen apart. But something inside Simon felt like it was splintering.
Then came the footsteps.
A knock on his door.
"Yo," Eddie's voice came through. "You alive in there?"
Simon opened it halfway. "Hey."
Eddie grinned, bag of bagels in one hand. "You hungry?"
"Not really."
"You look like hell, man."
"Didn't sleep well."
Eddie clapped him on the shoulder. "Come chill when you're up for it. Your sister's being weird today, though. Moody or something."
Simon's jaw clenched. "She's not my sister."
Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Uh… what?"
Simon cleared his throat. "Technically, she's not. Just grew up together. Step-stuff. Complicated."
Eddie blinked. "Right. Forgot."
Simon closed the door gently.
He leaned against it, letting the silence crawl back in.
That line again.
She's not my sister.
And yet the world still saw her that way.
Later, Eddie left with a quick goodbye kiss on Elena's cheek. Nothing dramatic. Nothing suspicious.
But when the door clicked shut behind him, Elena leaned back against it, her whole body sagging like she'd been holding her breath the entire time.
Simon came out slowly.
"You okay?" he asked.
She looked up at him.
"I wanted to scream when he kissed me."
Simon stepped closer. "Then don't let him do it again."
"You think it's that easy?"
"No," he said. "But I think we've already gone too far to pretend."
Elena didn't answer.
She just walked toward him, slow and quiet, until her forehead rested against his chest.
"I'm scared of what happens if we keep going," she whispered. "But I'm more scared of how I feel when we stop."
His arms came around her. Tighter than they should've. Warmer than either expected.
"Then don't stop," Simon whispered back.
And this time, she didn't argue.