Julian braced himself for a storm. He expected a shouting match, a collision of wills that would leave him hollow. Instead, they folded.

Without Julian's bank account to back them, the dream of an elite private school for Jason didn't have a leg to stand on. They weren't willing to sell the house in the city. They were too selfish for that kind of sacrifice.

"Fine, if you're going to be like that, just forget it," his mother muttered. She played the victim card with practiced ease, the moral martyr forced into submission. Julian stayed quiet. He was too tired to put them on trial anymore.

Jason was the bigger headache. The kid lived for gaming. If he wasn't playing, he was scrolling through streams, absorbing brain-rot internet slang like a sponge.

"You really want to play for a living?" Julian asked.

"You can't stop me," Jason snapped, his eyes fixed on the screen. "The second I turn eighteen, I'm becoming a pro streamer."

"Eighteen?" Julian tilted his head, his voice cold and clinical. "You're twelve. You're already behind. You need to start training now."

Jason blinked, finally looking up. "You... you aren't stopping me?"

"I'm going to help you reach your dream." Julian pulled out a printed schedule. "This is a pro-player's routine. You start tomorrow."

Jason's eyes ignited. He agreed before he even read the first line.

Julian looked at his phone. He wanted to hear Samuel's voice, but he forced his hand back. Don't be clingy. He had only finished half the "homework."

[Julian]: Parents are on board. The situation with my brother needs a little more time. Can I report back once it's handled? [Samuel]: Yes.

Julian typed a longer reply, then deleted it.

[Julian]: Thank you for today. Goodnight.

He set the phone face-down. He didn't expect a reply. Then, the screen lit up.

[Samuel]: You're welcome. Goodnight.

Julian's eyes crinkled into half-moons. He opened the contact info and changed the nickname from [Samuel Frost] to [Samuel]. It felt personal. It felt like they finally had a connection that existed outside the glass walls of Apex Capital.

He fell into a deep, restorative sleep.

Jason Hale's luck ran out at 7:30 AM. Julian dragged him out of bed, eyes still bleary, for laps around the apartment complex. Forty minutes later, the boy was wheezing, his face a blotchy red. He inhaled his breakfast and tried to crawl back under the duvet.

Julian ripped the covers away. "Pro training starts now."

The excitement lasted exactly two hours. Six hours of solo-queuing ranked matches with toxic teammates left Jason vibrating with rage. Then came the "drills"—two hours of last-hitting practice.

Jason lasted twenty minutes before he went limp.

"Get up," Julian whispered. It was a devil's murmur in the boy's ear. "Don't you want the fans? Don't you want the glory? You can't quit now."

Jason ground his teeth and kept clicking. By the time the review session ended, the boy didn't even have the energy to swipe through TikTok. He showered and hit the pillow like a corpse.

"He usually needs three hours of yelling to go to bed," his mother whispered, watching from the doorway. "He's actually sleeping."

Julian looked at his snoring brother. This is just the beginning.

Day three was the breaking point.

"I'm done! I hate this!" Jason shrieked, throwing his phone onto the sofa.

Julian picked it up and held it out. "Ten-minute break. Then we start the next set."

"I'm not playing!"

"How will you stream without skills?"

"I don't want to be a streamer!" Jason roared. "I hate games! I only play so the kids at school will talk to me!"

The room went still. Julian looked at the stocky kid in front of him. Jason wasn't the popular brat Julian had imagined; he was just a lonely boy with a bad attitude.

Julian sat on the edge of the sofa. "You play just to make friends?"

Jason nodded, his face turning a vivid red. He'd used the "pro streamer" lie so often he'd almost believed it himself.

Julian didn't scold him. "Forced friendships don't last, Jason. Are these kids actually your friends? Do they call you to do homework? Do they invite you to hang out?"

Jason stared at his knees. He gave a tiny, defeated shake of his head.

"That's not friendship," Julian said softly. "That's just company. Real friendship is built on equality. Respect. Sharing the bad parts, not just the high scores."

"But... I can't find friends like that," Jason sniffled.

Julian thought back to his own student days. He'd had a few chances at real friendship, but he'd let them slip away. After the college entrance exams, his roommates had invited him to visit their homes. Julian had wanted to go so badly his chest ached, but he was ashamed of his poverty. He didn't know how to explain his family to them. So he'd smiled and said no.

Years later, he saw those three together at a reunion. They were brothers. Julian had been relegated to a "former classmate."

If only I'd been brave then.

He looked at Jason. "Listen. Friendship usually starts with proximity—neighbors, classmates. You build memories. Then comes shared interests. It's okay to use games as a bridge, but you can't stay on the bridge forever."

"Why?"

"Because if there's nothing else to talk about, you're just two people holding controllers. Find something you actually love. Do it well. The right people will find you."

Jason looked up at him, his eyes full of a sudden, raw admiration. "Jules... you're actually kind of cool."

"I'm just older," Julian said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Go to sleep."

"Can I cuddle tonight?"

"No."

"Can I just hold one hand?" Jason swung Julian's arm back and forth, his stocky frame leaning into his brother. "Just one. Please?"

"Jason Hale." Julian used the boy's full name.

Jason sensed the shift and let go, his fingers trailing away.

"I'm going to ask you something. I want the truth." Julian stared into his eyes.

Jason gave a cautious, microscopic nod.

"Why did you sell the e-reader I gave you?"

Jason's head dropped. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I want the reason. Were you short on cash?"

Jason shook his head. After a long, heavy silence, he broke. Tears tracked through the flush on his cheeks. "I lied, Jules. I'm sorry. I didn't sell it. I gave it to a classmate."

"A classmate?" The answer was a curveball Julian hadn't expected.

Jason nodded. "It was his birthday. I used it as a gift."

Julian's expression hardened. "Do you know what you did wrong?"

Jason sobbed harder. "I shouldn't have given away a gift from you. I won't do it again."

Julian didn't let him off the hook. His tone remained a sharp, corporate blade. "Remember that. If I find out you don't value what I give you, there won't be another one."

"I know," Jason sniffled, looking small despite his height.

"And another thing." Julian looked at the boy. "In a friendship, you give within your means. Don't buy people off with things you can't afford to lose."

Jason let out a shaky, wet hiccup. "Anything else?"

"One more thing."

Jason braced for another blow, but Julian reached out his right hand. "Weren't you going to hold my hand?"

Jason froze, then a wide, teary grin broke across his face. He grabbed Julian's fingers and held on tight.

Late that night, Jason's rhythmic snoring kept Julian pinned to consciousness. Julian reached over and pinched the boy's nose. Silence for two seconds, then the noise returned, louder than before.

Julian gave up on sleep.

He reached out and squeezed Jason's soft cheek, a strange mix of joy and a hollow sort of regret settling in his chest. He wished someone had told him these things when he was twelve.

Jason Hale, you brat. Don't you dare take this for granted.