Noah, the towering 19-year-old, runs a hand through his tousled blonde hair, his long limbs awkwardly contained in casual jeans and a loose t-shirt. Beside him, Eli, age 21, leans against his bedframe, his hoodie and jeans fitting him perfectly, unlike his brother's clothes, which always seem just a bit too short. The morning feels charged with anticipation, as if the air itself is aware of the vast difference between them.
"You know, sometimes I forget how tall you really are until we stand like this," Eli says, craning his neck to meet Noah's eyes.
"Yeah, I forget too. Until I try not to hit my head on doorframes," Noah replies, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. Their laughter fills the room, warm and genuine.
Noah picks up an old picture where he and Eli are nearly the same height, both grinning with missing teeth. Eli shakes his head, marveling at how quickly things have changed. "Remember when we used to race to the kitchen? You'd always win, but now you just take one step and you're there," he teases, nudging Noah with his elbow.
"Sometimes I wish I could fit in better," Noah admits quietly. Eli looks at him, understanding passing between them. "You do fit in, Noah. Maybe not in doorways or on buses, but you fit with us—with me. That's what matters," he replies, his voice steady and reassuring.
Noah stretches, his fingertips brushing the ceiling with ease. He grins down at Eli, who stands beside him, now appearing even more diminutive but no less significant. "Yeah, I guess being different isn't so bad when you have someone who gets it," Noah says, gratitude coloring his words.
Eli places a hand on Noah's back, steady and supportive. "Whatever comes next, we face it together. Giant or not, you're still my little brother," he says with a wink. Their laughter echoes into the night, as steadfast and enduring as the bond between them.
