My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 65: Hard To Admit (BC)

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The morning light drifted gently through the kitchen window, spilling over the marble counter and catching dust motes in the air. I still had a pounding headache as I padded down the stairs, each step making the dull ache behind my eyes pulse a little more. My throat felt scratchy and dry, almost like I’d swallowed sandpaper during the night. Maybe I was coming down with something. Just great.

I tried to convince myself it was probably nothing, just tired from the lake or maybe staying up too late reading by candlelight again. A couple of painkillers and a glass of water should do the trick. That’s what Mom would’ve said, at least. So I followed her advice, gulped them down, and hoped for the best before heading toward the warm, sweet smell wafting through the air.

Adrien was in the kitchen, wearing a gray T-shirt and sweatpants, flipping pancakes effortlessly. I lingered in the doorway, still too groggy to say anything, just watching him. His hair was a mess, still damp from his shower, and the steam from the pan curled around him lazily.

He didn’t spot me right away, or maybe he did and was just pretending not to. The silence between us felt thick, not tense, just heavy. We hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words in the two days since he taught me how to swim. Two days since I embarrassed myself by blushing over him like some love-struck fool.

So there I stood, arms loosely crossed, my eyes following the easy rhythm of his movements...the way he tilted the pan, the quick flick of his wrist as he flipped another pancake without even looking. He stacked them neatly on a plate, one after another, like he’d done it a million times before. Maybe he had.

Then it struck me how quiet he’d been these past couple of days. Not his usual brooding silence, either. It was different and calm, like he was trying not to overthink anything. Since that day at the lake, when he’d taught me to swim, there was a strange, subtle shift in the air between us.

He hadn’t really spoken to me since then. No teasing, no arguments, not even those occasional smirks. Just silence.

Part of me wanted to say I didn’t care, that his mood wasn’t my issue, but I found myself missing the banter, the noise, the way he made the empty cabin feel less empty.

He glanced up briefly, his eyes flickering in my direction before returning to the stove, as if just acknowledging my presence was enough. He didn’t say a word.

I pressed my lips together, feeling too self-conscious to break the silence, so I stayed put, watching the rise and fall of his shoulders, the focused precision in his movements.

The delightful smell of cinnamon and vanilla filled the room, and my stomach let out a quiet, traitorous growl. I quickly glanced away, pretending to examine the kitchen tiles instead.

For a moment, I thought about whether this was how things would be just quiet coexistence again. Sharing the same air, the same space, without acknowledging each other.

I didn’t want that. Not after the last few days. Not after everything that had been slowly changing between us.

But with the lump in my throat and my body feeling heavier every second, I wasn’t sure I could speak without shaking. So I just stood there in the morning sunlight, silently watching him cook, wondering when the distance between us had started to bother me so much.

Finally, Adrien turned around, a spatula in hand and that familiar smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "You gonna take a picture or what? It’ll last longer," he teased, raising an eyebrow, his tone playful but not mean.

I blinked, caught off guard, and immediately looked away, my cheeks warming. "I wasn’t staring," I muttered, which was totally a lie because I definitely had been.

"Sure," he replied with a smirk as he flipped the last pancake.

Desperate to start some kind of normal conversation, anything to break through the heavy silence that had settled between us. I asked, "So, did you, like... take a cooking class or something?"

Adrien chuckled softly, glancing over his shoulder. "Nah. I just have a natural talent for it," he said, completely unembarrassed. "On top of being handsome, athletic, smart, cool... and, you know, generally perfect in every way."

I shot him a flat look. "Wow. So humble, too."

He gave me a playful grin. "I try."

For a moment, my laughter filled the kitchen, soft and genuine. It wasn’t forced at all; it felt so natural. And for the first time in days, I let myself relax. The knot that had been in my chest since the swimming lesson finally began to loosen. Maybe I had been imagining that tension between us. Maybe he hadn’t been avoiding me after all.

He plated the pancakes and slid one toward me, and just as I was about to say thank you, I felt an unstoppable sneeze coming on.

"Ah—choo!"

Adrien jumped, almost dropping the syrup bottle. "Jesus, Noah," he exclaimed, a mix of surprise and mock disgust on his face. "Are you trying to spread your loser germs all over breakfast?"

I sniffed and rubbed my nose, trying not to laugh. "Sorry. I didn’t—ah—ah-choo!"

"Okay, that’s enough," he said, pointing the spatula at me like it was a weapon. "Go sit at the counter before you infect the food. Go."

I rolled my eyes but didn’t push back, dragging myself to the counter stool. "You’re overreacting," I said, my nose still a bit stuffed. "It’s just a little cold."

"Uh-huh," he muttered, grabbing a paper towel to wipe down the counter anyway.

I offered a faint smile, but my throat felt raw and a wave of fatigue hit me hard. I rested my head on my folded arms, keeping an eye on him from across the counter.

He moved around the kitchen with an easy confidence, acting like he was ignoring me but glancing my way now and then. The morning light poured in through the window, outlining him in gold, and for some reason, that sight felt oddly comforting.

Even as my eyelids started to droop, I found myself thinking that maybe this was what peace looked like between us—some playful sarcasm, a few laughs, and sharing a meal. Nothing complicated. Nothing painful.

And I realized, sitting there half-sick and drowsy, that the last thing I wanted was for things to go back to how they were before Clearwater. Before this fragile truce that felt so much better than the pretense of hating each other.

I sneezed again, prompting another groan from Adrien. "Crazy Hamster," he muttered, but when I peeked at him through my hair, I caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes before he turned away.