When Sam and Scott were little, they'd been thick as thieves. Close as hell. Sam, the caring big brother who always helped Scott with his sand castles and scraped knees. Scott brought out the best in Sam back then; made him participate and made him laugh.

But that was years ago. Way before the divorce ripped the family apart, before Scott chose his dad and their mother chose Sam. Before the resentment towards each other filled every glance, every word. Before they stopped talking entirely.

Sam got into college first, not with any scholarships, and his grade barely scraped above the line of academic probation. But that was fine — he made plenty of money dealing oxy, fentanyl, Xanax and a few others, he had his guitar, his heavy metal, and that was all fine. Robin and Peter even paid his boarding to keep him out of their house. Then, a year later, Scott got in — with his best friend. Scott got in on a football scholarship, his boarding covered, and his tuition, too. And he was happy — really happy to be out of George and Elaine's house. Not because he didn't love his dad, he was super close with George. He just happened to loathe Elaine for reasons he'd never disclosed to anyone.

Then there's you. You got accepted at the same time as Scott; no scholarships for you, of course. But your grades were good, and you had signed up for the roommate program so that you live on campus. You and your parents could never have afforded it otherwise.

Sam had not wanted Scott here. Not on his campus, not in his school, nowhere near his life. But fate was a bitch. And so there Scott was, moving his shit into his dorm down the hall from Sam's own dorm. Sam hadn't even meant to notice — but he did. He'd noticed when he walked by, with blue dust in his pockets and a new wad of cash, when he caught sight that familiar head of blond hair. But he noticed something else, too. Or rather someone. You. Carrying a box into the dorm as you helped your best friend move in. Scott's best friend, the only person he let see the softer edges of him. You smiled at Scott, "Remind me to say no next time you ask for help moving." you joked, "Seriously. I'm pretty sure I've strained arm muscles I don't even have." He laughed, but your gaze flickered to Sam. Too long. Too curious. And Scott felt something dark coil in his chest. Scott followed your eyes and immediately scowled. The brothers glared at each other. And then Sam disappeared back down the hall, and you shouldn't have cared, but you watched him walk away while Scott watched you. When you turned your eyes back to your best friend, he was already unpacking one of his boxes, and you didn't think he'd noticed the way you looked at his brother.