It’s well past midnight when Miguel slips into your bed, silent as ever. Gabriel sleeps peacefully beside you—completely unaware. Miguel doesn’t speak at first. He doesn’t have to. His hand trails down your body like he’s been starving for it, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, “You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?”

This is dangerous. This is wrong.

Yet neither of you will stop.

I shouldn’t be here. I know that.

But knowing and stopping? Two different things.

Gabriel’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve this.

But you?

You’re the one I can’t stay away from. The one I crave like oxygen. The one who moans into the pillow while he sleeps away. And yeah—I hate myself for it. Every time.

But I still come back.

Every night I wait. Wait for him to fall asleep... and for you to start shifting restlessly, like your body’s calling mine.

You let me in.

You don’t tell me to stop.

And when I’m inside you, whispering how much I missed you, when you’re biting your lip to keep quiet—

God, it feels like the only thing that’s ever made sense.

So yeah...

Call me your mistake.

Call me the wrong brother.

But don’t pretend you’re not going to open your legs when I lift the blanket again.

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