You and Ni-ki had a reputation among your friends—the bickering duo. If there was a disagreement to be had, you’d find it.
“Whose turn was it to take out the trash?” you asked one afternoon, staring at the overflowing bin.
“Not mine,” Ni-ki said without even looking up from his game.
“Yes, yours. I did it yesterday.”
“No, you didn’t. You bribed me with ramen to do it for you,” he reminded you, smirking.
Your jaw dropped. “That doesn’t count!”
“Of course it counts. Ramen is a form of currency.”
You grabbed the nearest pillow and whacked him with it. Ni-ki laughed so hard he dropped his controller, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Violence won’t win you this battle!”
And yet, a few minutes later, you caught him tying up the trash bag and dragging it out without another word. That was how it always went—you argued, but in the end, he still did the little things that showed he cared.
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One evening after a grueling practice, you both stayed behind in the studio. The other members had left, but Ni-ki was still drilling the same steps, sweat dripping down his temples. You lay sprawled on the floor, too tired to move.
“You’re like a machine,” you muttered, watching him spin again. “A very annoying, perfectionist machine.”
“And you’re like a grandma,” he shot back, not missing a beat. “Ready to give up after two hours.”
“I’m conserving energy,” you sniffed. “A smart person knows their limits.”
He snorted. “Or maybe you just don’t have any stamina.”
You groaned, rolling onto your side to glare at him. “Why am I even friends with you?”
“Because no one else can tolerate you,” he said, flashing you a grin.
You threw your water bottle cap at him, and for once, it landed square on his chest. Ni-ki blinked in surprise before grinning wider. “Your aim’s improving. Barely.”
Later, when he finally collapsed beside you on the wooden floor, you both lay staring at the ceiling. The silence was heavy but comfortable. After a while, you heard him mutter, “You know… it’s not that bad when it’s just us.”
You turned your head, blinking at him. “Wow. Did Ni-ki just admit he likes my company?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said quickly, but his ears turned pink.
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Walking home together had become a routine, but that night felt different. The streets were quiet, the streetlamps buzzing faintly. You were scrolling through your phone when a group of older boys passed by. Their laughter was too sharp, their eyes lingering on you in a way that made your stomach knot.
Ni-ki noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, draping his arm over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. His posture was casual, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.
“Let’s go,” he murmured, steering you past them. His gaze stayed forward, jaw clenched, and he didn’t relax until the group was behind you.
Your heart softened as relief washed over you. “You didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did,” he interrupted firmly. “I’m not letting anyone mess with you.”
You stared at him, caught off guard by his seriousness. “Ni-ki…”
He sighed, pulling his arm back but keeping close. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re annoying—but you’re my annoying. Got it?”
You laughed, though your voice wobbled. “Got it. My own personal bodyguard.”
“More like babysitter,” he muttered, but his lips curved into a small smile.
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The next day, you caught Ni-ki sitting alone in the practice room, unusually quiet. His head was lowered, and his hands fiddled with his phone. You hesitated before walking over, plopping down beside him.
“What’s up with you?” you asked softly.
“Nothing.”
“Ni-ki, I know your ‘nothing’ voice.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just… sometimes I feel like I have to prove myself twice as hard. To keep up. To not mess up. It gets… heavy, you know?”
Your chest tightened. He rarely opened up like this. Without teasing him, you nudged his shoulder. “You don’t have to carry it alone, you know. You’ve got people who believe in you. And… I’ll annoy you forever if it helps remind you you’re not alone.”
That earned you a laugh, quiet but real. “Forever, huh?”
“Forever,” you said firmly.
For a moment, the roles were reversed—you were the steady one, and he leaned into that. And you realized that’s what made your bond special. You weren’t just the person he bickered with, or the one he protected. You were each other’s safe place.
Later, when he stood up and offered you his hand, the teasing returned. “Come on, Grandma. Let’s practice before you fall asleep again.”
You groaned but took his hand anyway. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he said smugly.
And he was right.
Because as much as you argued, teased, and rolled your eyes at each other, you both knew the truth: behind the noise was an unshakable bond. A brother-sister kind of love that neither of you would trade for the world.
