Jon’s fevered sleep was restless, tangled with strange dreams. He barely noticed the faint creak of his bedroom door opening.
Mikey stood in the doorway, barefoot, hair messy from having been woken up by the muffled chatter of Mom and Zoe downstairs earlier. At seven years old, Mikey was the opposite of his big brother — where Jon liked to keep to himself, Mikey was loud, relentless, and always trying to drag Jon into his games.
And right now, Mikey saw an opportunity.
He’d heard about Jon’s “illness” from whispers at school. Not the science behind it — that went over his head — but the rumor. If he cuddled his big brother all night, he’d wake up and Jon would be just like him. Same face. Same voice. Same everything.
To Mikey, this wasn’t weird science; it was the best prank ever.
He tiptoed across the carpet, smirking.
Jon muttered something in his sleep and rolled over, but didn’t wake.
Mikey climbed up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his small weight. He wiggled closer until their shoulders touched. Then, with the stubborn determination only a little brother could muster, he wrapped an arm around Jon’s middle and held on.
The warmth from Jon’s fever made him drowsy, but Mikey didn’t let go. He knew the rule — stay close all night. No breaks. By morning, if the playground gossip was true, his boring big brother would be replaced by someone much cooler.
Mikey grinned in the dark, eyes growing heavy. “You’re gonna be so much fun tomorrow, Jon,” he whispered.
And with that, the room settled into silence — two brothers tangled under the covers, one blissfully unaware of what might happen before sunrise.
