Dear Stepbrother

The day I confessed my feelings to my stepbrother, he blocked me on everything.
It wasn't until I died in a car crash that Finn, the musical prodigy, stood on stage at his sold-out concert and cried his eyes out.
He announced his retirement on the spot, then sat up all night, clutching the tattered old teddy bear I’d given him.
My ghost-self, ever the smartass, floated over and tilted its head.
"No way. Are you actually crying?"
The next second, my entire body landed solidly in his lap.
Well, this is… awkward.

01
It was New Year's Eve, and the face of the musical prodigy, Finn, was plastered on giant posters all over the city.
The cab driver, who’d been stuck in the same gridlock as me for three hours, had lost his will to be angry. He followed my gaze.
On the massive screen of the city's tallest skyscraper, highlight reels from Finn’s concert played on a loop. He held the mic in one hand, brow furrowed in concentration. The stage lights around him suddenly dimmed, and the pinpricks of light from the audience’s phones began to swirl like a constellation. It was as if Finn was standing at the very center of the galaxy.
I stared, lost in the moment.
It was the last song from his tour last year, at the Port Blossom arena.
I was on a business trip in the southwest at the time. A thunderstorm rolled in, my flight was delayed, and I missed it.
When I finally landed in the middle of the night, I curled up in bed with my tablet and watched the two-and-a-half-hour recording over and over again.
In the comments, fans who couldn't get tickets lamented their bad luck.
Someone tried to console them. [What's there to be sad about? He'll have plenty more concerts.]
Finn was at the peak of his fame. I believed that was true, yet a part of me felt hollow. I had promised him when he first started out that I would never miss a single one of his shows.
…And yet, I’d broken my promise.
The driver, unimpressed, rested an arm on the half-open window and blew a lazy smoke ring into the evening air.
"Can't even hear a thing. What's the point of spending all that money on this crap?"
Because of the concert and the approaching holiday, Olympia City was gridlocked from one end to the other.
As dusk settled, the crisscrossing streetlights cast a hazy yellow glow that stretched all the way to the deepening colors of the sunset.
The driver finally gave up and killed the engine, making idle chit-chat with me.
If my dad were still alive, he’d be nearing retirement age now.
Maybe he would’ve driven a cab in his spare time, spinning tales about anything and everything to his passengers. When I was a kid, during the peak of summer, our neighbors would pull up little stools and sit in front of our house, fanning themselves in the heat.
Dad would pull a watermelon, still cool from the well water, and slice it clean in half.
But life is unpredictable. No one ever thought my dad would be diagnosed with stomach cancer in the prime of his life.
The day my mom came back from the hospital, her face was a cold mask. She packed a bag and took me away without a word.
The next time I saw that little rundown courtyard, the weeds were already past my knees.
I listened to the driver, occasionally nodding or offering a small smile.
"You heading to the concert too, miss?"
He glanced over at me, his voice hesitant.
I was wearing a simple white shirt and light-wash jeans, a heavy laptop bag resting on my knees. Dangling from the zipper was a small teddy bear, washed so many times its fur had gone pale. I didn't exactly look like a young fan with time to spare for chasing celebrities.
I felt the ticket in my pocket—one I’d paid a scalper a fortune for—and shook my head.
Tonight was the fifth anniversary of Finn's debut. Of the hundred thousand fans in that arena, the very last person he’d want to see… was me.

02
Finn was my stepbrother, a product of my mother's second, short-lived marriage.
When that one imploded, my mom took the family dog. Finn took me.
He was only four years older than me, but he acted like a miniature adult, taking care of me for years.
When I was wrongly accused of having a boyfriend in high school, he stormed into the principal's office, face like thunder, and unleashed a verbal tirade on my supposed "secret love."
Mark, the class president, who had never seen anything like it, burst into tears on the spot. For a long time after, he refused to walk home from school with me.
"Ava," he’d said, "is that your 'angelic' brother? More like the damn grim reaper."
Of course, I didn't get off easy either.
Finn gave me the silent treatment for five days straight. If we passed each other, he’d look right through me.
I was completely innocent, but I was stubborn too, so I dug my heels in and ignored him right back.
At night, I’d be huddled on my side of our tiny room doing homework, and he wouldn't come over to check it like he used to. He’d just sit at his own desk, head down, scribbling notes on a music sheet.
The rented basement apartment was barely big enough for the two of us. We’d sit with our backs to each other, a silence stretching between us like an ocean.
I stared at the same three lines of my textbook for the entire evening.
That cold war lasted until the night he became an overnight sensation. He was the one who finally called.
The other end of the line was a cacophony of noise, but Finn’s voice cut through it all, as clear as a drop of water in a silent cave, landing right in my ear.
"Ava, we're going to have money now."
I fiddled with the tassel on my bed curtains, the ache that had been sitting in my chest for days finally smoothing out.
I tried to sound casual, but my voice still trembled when I spoke.
"Yeah? So… does that mean I can get into your concerts for free from now on?"
When you've been poor for so long, you dream of all the extravagant things you'll do with money, but my imagination never stretched much further than that.
Finn sighed on the other end, his tone softening.
For a moment, it felt like my kind, considerate brother was back.
"Yeah," he said. "From now on, for every show, I'll save you the best seat in the front row."
In the end, he broke that promise, too.
See? Neither of us was very good at keeping our word.

03
The city lights outside the window flickered. The blare of car horns around me suddenly grew frantic, and everything outside seemed to rush backward.
I snapped out of my memories, taking a deep breath and looking out the window in confusion. My hand tightened around the little bear. Then, my world went black.
Everything seemed to lurch into slow motion. I felt the driver’s lit cigarette fall onto my forearm, pressed searingly into my skin by the inflating airbag.
A deafening roar filled my ears, and my body felt like it was being pulled down into an endless abyss.
The roar stretched on and on, until finally, there was nothing.
In the darkness, I saw my father, sitting on our porch steps in the summer heat, holding half a watermelon and smiling at me.
I saw Shadow, the little dog my mother had beaten to death the day she left, wagging his tail and baring his tiny, sharp teeth in a playful grin.
And then, suddenly, I heard Finn’s voice. He was singing.
…
The arena was packed, and Finn stood in the center of a brilliant spotlight.
The first time I ever heard him sing was the night we left home.
The dark alley seemed to stretch on forever. I clutched the sleeve of his shirt, my eyes red, wanting to cry but not daring to.
In the few years I had lived in their house, he had always worn a cold expression.
I thought he didn't like me. But when he chose to take me with him, without a moment's hesitation, he seemed to glow with a golden light.
A black cat shot out from the shadows, its paws scattering a rolling plastic bottle as it leaped onto a wall and let out a piercing shriek.
My fingers trembled, and I shrank back, burying my face against his side.
Finn squatted down, sighing in exasperation.
"A cat scares you this much? You want me to sing you a song to make you brave?"
After my mom married his dad, Finn had never looked at me directly, let alone spoken with such gentleness.
Maybe seeing my mother abandon me so coldly had stirred his pity. Maybe my fear had softened him.
"You want to hear it or not?" Finn asked, kicking at a loose pebble as he stood up.
It was the first time I'd ever seen him be so patient.
"Yes," I mumbled, wiping my nose.
The moon rose overhead, casting a pale light into the dark alley.
My mother never really liked dogs. Otherwise, she wouldn't have beaten Shadow to death when he clung to my pant leg, refusing to let me go.
My mother just didn't like me anymore.
She had finally realized what a burden I was. She would rather take a dog she didn't even like than take me.
But Finn had taken me without a second thought.
"They can't afford to raise you. I can."
"You are not a burden, Ava. You never were…"
In that instant, my world felt bright again. I gathered my courage and took his hand.
"What do you want to hear?"
"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."
"Lame."
"It's the only song I know. My mom never sang to me."
Even that one, I'd only learned by eavesdropping on the neighbors.
Finn froze for a second, his eyes softening. Then, his clear, cool voice drifted down from above me.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,"
"How I wonder what you are."
"Up above the world so high,"
"Like a diamond in the sky."
…

04
I drifted lightly to the front row. The seat that should have been mine was empty, untouched.
Finn stood less than a hundred yards away, the familiar nursery rhyme still echoing through the stadium.
He always opened his shows with this song. I guess this way, I wasn't technically missing it.
Next to me, a couple of girls were whispering to each other. "It's such a sweet tradition. I can't even imagine how lucky his sister must be."
I glanced down at the faint burn scar on my forearm and smiled sadly.
Maybe I would have been, if I hadn't gotten drunk and confessed my feelings to him on the night of my high school graduation.
In my pocket, the screen of my cracked phone was still open to my chat history with Finn.
It was, in reality, a monologue. A long stream of green message bubbles from me, ending in a sea of red exclamation points.
Finn had blocked me long ago.
Except for the living expenses that were wired to my bank account every month like clockwork, Finn had slowly vanished from my life.
He'd said I was too young, that I couldn't tell the difference between love and dependency.
He chose the best university for me in a city far away—Port Blossom, on the opposite side of the country.
The moment I stepped onto that train, dragging my suitcase behind me, I knew. I had no reason to ever go back to Olympia City again.
Even Finn didn't want me anymore.
I was homeless again.
It rained constantly in Port Blossom, and the local accent was completely different. I tried calling Finn many times, but he never picked up.
The song ended. Finn slowly opened his eyes, the dazzling lights making him squint. His gaze swept across the crowd, as if searching for something.
When I first heard he'd made this song his opening number, I had shamelessly called his manager, Kai.
The explanation I got was blunt: it was all part of the act, a way to maintain his "devoted older brother" persona for the fans.
I pulled my ghostly coat tighter around me and settled into my empty seat.
The powerful speakers cranked the energy in the arena to a fever pitch. The beat of the drums hammered against my eardrums, and the crowd was on its feet, screaming.
Finn was born for the stage.
And I was born for Finn.
Although… he didn't feel the same way.
He performed five songs in a row. As the platform he was on began to lower, I floated after him to the backstage area.
Back when we were crammed into that tiny basement, he used to promise he’d show me what it was like backstage at a concert. But later, I couldn't even get a chance to see him, let alone go backstage.
Those empty promises had long since faded into nothing.
The backstage area was a chaotic swarm of people, everyone rushing around, a whirlwind of activity with Finn at its center.
It was only then that I truly understood. He really had become a star, shining and untouchable.
I found an empty corner and leaned against the wall, watching him.
Finn’s eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.
I remembered how, to save money, he had scored 73 points above the requirement for a free teaching scholarship at a local college. When I found out, I felt so wronged on his behalf that I cried and tried to push him out the door.
"Go… go change your application! I'll drop out of school!"
He had grabbed my wrist, pulled a stack of handwritten music sheets from under his bed, and soothed me. "Your brother is going to be a big star someday, Ava. It doesn't matter what I study. This isn't about the money."
"But you said you wanted to be a designer! Your dream is a dream, but mine isn't?"
That was how Finn always convinced me—a mix of coaxing and gentle bullying, topped with a blatant lie.
Now, he'd finally achieved his dream. So why did he look so unhappy?
From the crowd, someone muttered under their breath, "The police are on the line. Should we tell him…?"
"Are you insane? We can't tell him about Ava until after the show…"
Finn’s distant gaze flickered, landing somewhere in the empty space for a few seconds before snapping up, meeting my eyes with a jolt.
If I were still alive, my heart would have skipped a beat.
I blinked. He looked straight through me, his focus shifting to the people behind me, and I came back to my senses.
It was always like this. A fleeting glance from Finn felt like an eternity to me.
His fingers, resting on the buttons of his shirt, trembled slightly. "What happened?"
His manager, Kai, clutched his phone, too scared to hand it over. "It's nothing. The intermission is almost over, you should…"
"I asked you what happened," Finn cut him off. His eyes were turning red, the sequins on his stage costume flashing chaotically. "It's Ava, isn't it?"
It was the first time he had said my full name in five years.
He used to call me Avie. It was amazing how much distance a few years could create.
Finn rarely got angry. In his early days, he’d run three gigs in one night, his throat raw and scratchy, but he never lost his temper with Kai.
Later, as he became more and more famous, his songs playing on every street corner, he had even less reason to be angry with anyone.
Kai tried to hide the phone behind his back. I floated over. A news site was open, displaying the horrific scene of the multi-car pile-up on New Year's Eve. Most of the photos were censored.
But in one corner of a picture, I could still make out the mangled remains of me and the driver.
The cheap bobblehead on the cab driver’s dashboard was stained with blood, nodding cheerfully along with the distant chime of the New Year's bells.
A grotesque, bloodthirsty kind of cheer.
Not far from the wreckage lay the little teddy bear I always kept on my laptop bag.
It was a birthday gift from Finn during my senior year of high school. When I found out he’d bought the expensive, official version with money he earned from three straight months of grueling gigs, I’d impulsively thrown it onto the street.
It was spring in Olympia City, and the fluffy cottonwood seeds swirled through the air, clinging to the bear's fur.
I couldn't bear it. In the middle of the night, I snuck out and picked it up.
Finn never knew about that.
Years had passed. He probably didn't even remember the gift.
The intermission music faded, replaced by a rhythmic drum beat.
The fans in the stadium were cheering, their voices rising in a unified chant of his name, organized by someone in the crowd.
A hundred thousand people were calling for him to return to the stage, but backstage, it was eerily, unnaturally silent.
"Give it to me… Let me see…" Finn's voice was shaking, his fingertips trembling along with it.
Kai had nowhere to run. Finn snatched the phone from his hand.
Finn's eyes landed on the screen. He only needed one look to see the little bear, soaked in blood…

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