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Drake is startled by a oud SLAM followed by a livid sounding Josh shouting, "DRAKE!" He glances up and is met with the sight of his step brother, soaking wet and clearly near tears. His hair is a mess and, somehow, his work uniform is torn in several places.
Drake answers calmly, his eyebrows raised, mouth full of chips. "Hey, Josh. You look... wet."
Josh rolls his eyes and answers sarcastically. "Oh, do I? I hadn’t noticed!" He emphasizes his words with dramatic movements of his hands.
Drake doesn't look up from the TV as he responds. "What happened? Did you fall in a pool or something?" Josh feels his body tense. He can't believe Drake sometimes. He rolls his eyes before he responds, fuming.
"No, Drake. I walked home. In the rain. For two miles." He can't help the way his voice shakes as he speaks.
Drake finally looks up at Josh and frowns. "Whoa, that sounds terrible." There's a pause, and Josh breathes deeply, calming just slightly. At least Drake- "Hey, can you move? You’re dripping on the carpet." That's it.
"THE CARPET?!" Josh shouts , his voice cracking. "Drake, I called you! I called you like seven times to pick me up from work! You knew I needed a ride today!"
Drake winces amd squints his eyes. "Ooooh, yeah. About that... I got distracted." He eats another chip. "Sorry, man."
Josh shouts, fuming . "You got distracted?? You promised to pick me up, Drake! PROMISED! And instead, I had to walk home in a torrential downpour while you sat here stuffing your face with chips and watching... what is this, Lady Cops?"
Drake nods. "They’re sour cream and onion. Want one?" Josh's eye twitches. He snatches the bag from Drake's lap and throws it across the room. Drake jumps, slightly startled and very offended. Those were good chips.
"No, I don’t want a chip, Drake! I want a brother who cares!" Josh scoffs before heading upstairs, soaking the steps as he trudges up. He should've expected this, really, he should have. This kind of thing happens all the time with Drake, and Josh usually wouldn't even be this upset. But he's had such a bad day already, and this is just the cherry on top of his metaphorical misery cake. He rushes into his and Drake's shared room and heads straight for his wardrobe. He angrily pulls out some clothes, leaving some on the floor around his bed, then heads to the bathroom. He slams the door and takes a deep breath.
In the bathroom, Josh stares at his reflection in the mirror. His uniform is ruined, his hair a mess, and his under eye bags look worse than usual. He peels off his soggy clothes and drops them into a heap on the floor, the wet fabric slapping against the tile pathetically.
He turns on the shower, letting the hot water run for a moment before stepping in. As the warmth envelopes him, Josh closes his eyes, trying to let the day wash away.
But his thoughts won't stop.
Why did Drake always do this? Why did he always forget, always let him down? No matter how many times Josh helped him, covered for him, supported him, Drake never seemed to care enough to return the favor.
Josh leans his head against the shower wall, the water running down his face. He thinks about all the times he’d gone out of his way for Drake. Helping him with homework. Covering for him when he sneaks out. Even stepping in to take the blame when Drake crashed the family car into a mailbox.
And what did he get in return? A two mile run in the rain. It wasn’t just today. It was a pattern, a constant reminder that in Drake’s world, Josh was an afterthought.
Josh lets out a long sigh, watching the steam swirl around him. Maybe this is just how things would always be with Drake. He'd never care about Josh the way Josh cared about him. But then Josh thinks about the good times—the nights spent laughing over video games, the times Drake would secretly help him with his magic tricks, the way Drake always managed to make him laugh, even in his most miserable of days.
For all his flaws, Drake wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t trying to hurt Josh. He was just… Drake. The warm water patted against Josh's head in an almost therapeutic way. It was nice. But no matter how warm the water was, it couldn’t wash away his anger—or the ache in his chest.
As he stands under the spray, Josh replays the night in his mind. The frustration, the disappointment… and beneath it all, something deeper. Something he couldn’t ignore anymore.
Drake always seemed to be the center of Josh’s world. Even when he was selfish, even when he forgot things, even when he drove Josh completely insane—he still cared. Too much, maybe. Whether it was walking him up for school, doing his laundry, making him food, or whatever else Drake wanted, Josh would do it. Feeling like such an unimportant part of Drake's world made Josh feel terrible. But he didn't care. He'd feel terrible if it meant he got to be with Drake. He pressed his forehead against the cool tile, his heart pounding. He’d always chalked it up to brotherly love, or their bond as step-siblings. But this was different. This was… more.
Realizing it now felt like a slap to the face. He was in love with Drake.
“Oh, no,” Josh mutters, the words barely audible over the sound of the water. Now Josh was in an even bigger world of hurt.
It wasn’t just the fight that hurt. It was the fact that Drake didn’t see him the way Josh saw Drake. Drake was magnetic, confident, effortlessly cool. Girls threw themselves at him. People wanted to be him. And Josh? Josh was just… Josh. He sighs and turns off the water, then remains in the shower for a few more moments, letting the water drip off his body and onto the shower floor.
After drying off and lazily pulling on his pajamas, Josh steps out of the bathroom, his anger bubbling to the surface. He storms towards his and Drake's shared bedroom, ready to unleash every bottled-up complaint he’d been holding back.
When he pushes the door open, he sees Drake sprawled out on his bed, his guitar resting against his chest. Drake looks up, his easy grin faltering as he sees the storm cloud written across Josh’s face.
“Uh, hey,” Drake starts, sitting up. “You okay?”
“Do I look okay?” Josh snaps, his voice sharper than usual.
Drake winces, setting his guitar aside. “Look, man, before you—”
“No, I’m talking now!” Josh interrupts, his wet curls bouncing as he gestures wildly. “You are such a jerk! You- you left me to walk home in the rain. And then you didn’t even answer your phone! Do you know how cold and miserable I was? What if I was struck hy lightning or something!?”
Drake stands, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “I know, okay? I screwed up. I’m sorry.”
Josh’s glare doesn't soften. “Sorry doesn’t magically make it better, Drake! You always do this. You only think about yourself, and I’m just supposed to—”
“I’m trying!” Drake cuts in, his voice louder than Josh expected. “I know I mess up, but I swear I’m trying to do better. I didn’t mean to leave you out there. I wasn’t thinking, and that’s on me. But I care about you, Josh. More than you think.”
Josh freezes at the last sentence, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. The vulnerability in Drake’s tone throws him off guard, and for a moment, all the words he wants to say catch in his throat.
Drake steps closer, his hands still up as if approaching a spooked animal. Josh frowns. He was many things, but definitely not a spooked animal. “I’m sorry, Josh. I don’t know what else to say.”
Josh’s breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling with a mix of lingering anger and something else entirely. The way Drake looks at him—with guilt, sincerity, and a touch of something Josh can't quite place—makes his heart race. He isn't sure what it is, but something in the air seems to change for the both of them. Before he can think about what he's doing, Josh grabs the front of Drake’s shirt and yanks him closer, a little harsher than intended. He looks down at his stepbrother with furrowed brows.
Now, depending on who you ask, both boys will say that the other is the one who initiated what happens next. It doesn't really matter, though, and their lips collide in a kiss that is urgent and unrestrained. It's all teeth and lips, and Josh thinks he might be losing his mind...
Drake’s hands find Josh’s shoulders, pulling him down closer. The kiss deepens, their lips moving together in a rhythm that is clumsy but electric. Josh can taste the faint remnants of Drake’s sour cream and onion chips, and the warmth of Drake’s body against his own makes his skin tingle.
Time seems to blur for Josh. The only thing he can focus on is the way Drake’s fingers grip him, the way their breaths mingle, and the way every ounce of anger has transformed into something far more intense. It's not much different than kissing a girl, but it's less careful, and Josh is sure that Drake is gripping him much harder than he would if he were one...
When they finally pull apart, both are breathless, and Drake's eyes are wide.
“Uh,” Drake says, his voice hushed and unsteady.
Josh’s cheeks flush. “I—I don’t know why I did that,” he admits, his hands still gripping Drake’s shirt.
"Yeah, man, me neither..." Drake swallows, and then steps away from Josh. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, apparently deciding against it. Josh looks equally flustered, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to massage the awkwardness away.
“So…” Drake finally says, breaking the silence, “uh… does this mean we’re even? Like, you're not upset anymore?”
Josh blinks, caught off guard. He'd almost forgotten about the events of the night, somehow. “What? Drake. You don’t just—” He stops himself, realizing how pointless it'd be to continue their argument now. He sighs. “You know what? Fine. We’re even.”
Drake grins, the tension in the room lightening just a bit. “Cool. Glad we cleared that up.” He steps toward the couch and flops down dramatically, patting the seat next to him. “Come on, dude. Let’s watch some TV or something. Maybe we can catch the end of Lady Cops.” Josh's head shakes slowly. Drake and the way his mind worked was an enigma to him. He hesitates, his heart still racing, but he eventually sits down, keeping a cautious distance. The silence lingers for a moment before Drake grabs the remote and starts flipping through channels.
After a few minutes of aimless scrolling, Drake glances at Josh, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “So… how was it? On a scale of 1-10.”
Josh’s head snaps toward him, his eyes wide. “What?!”
“You know,” Drake says, waggling his eyebrows, “the kiss. Was I, like, top-tier amazing, or just regular amazing?”
Josh groans, his face burning. “Oh my God, Drake. You're unbelievable, you know that? You really are.”
“What? It’s a valid question!” Drake’s grin widens. “I mean, I’m guessing I’m the best you’ve ever had, but—”
“Drake, I swear,” Josh interrupts, burying his face in his hands. “You're giving me a migraine. Right now.”
Drake chuckles, clearly pleased with himself, but he doesn’t press the issue further. Instead, he leans back on the couch, his smirk still firmly in place. Josh peeks through his fingers and sighs, equal parts frustrated and amused. Drake always knew how to diffuse tension, even if his methods were absurdly annoying.
For a while, they sit in silence, the TV playing softly in the background. Josh finds his thoughts drifting back to the kiss—how impulsive it was, how it made his heart race, and how it left him with more questions than answers. Drake, as usual, seems unaffected, his gaze fixed on the screen like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
But Josh knows better. Beneath Drake’s easygoing exterior, there’s always something more—something Drake never says out loud. And maybe, just maybe, Josh's feelings weren't as one sided as he'd feared.
~
That night, as Josh lies in bed staring at the ceiling, he listens to Drake’s steady breathing from the other side of the room. The storm outside has quieted, but the storm inside himself rages on.
Josh doesn’t know what their kiss means. He doesn’t know if Drake feels the same way he does. And maybe he never will. But for now, as the warmth of the moment lingers in the air, he decides to hold on to the small comfort it brings.
It’s enough. At least for tonight.