realized i am the younger brother of the protagonist in a bl game react to Akira as Mikaela (x2)

When Akira opened his eyes for the first time in that unfamiliar room, something inside him was already broken. He wasn't a child. Not entirely. Two truths that were impossible to reconcile coexisted in his mind: the fragmented memory of a tragic death in the arms of his twin brother, and the sudden reality of being the younger brother of the protagonist of a romance game between boys. He had died as Mikaela. He had awakened as Akira. And during the first few days, he simply observed. He processed. He learned to silence the screams that still echoed in his head when he closed his eyes. He learned to smile like a twelve-year-old boy when inside he still felt the coldness of death. His new brother, the protagonist of this story, was kind. Too kind. He made him breakfast, asked him about his studies, ruffled his hair with a tenderness that hurt. Because every gesture, every kind word, every “I love you, Akira,” resonated somewhere deep inside where the memory of Yuu-chan still lived. And Akira learned to love him. Despite everything. Despite the fear. Despite knowing that this world was just a game. Or perhaps because of that very reason: because here, perhaps, he could truly protect him. Cuando Akira abrió los ojos por primera vez en aquella habitación desconocida, algo en su interior ya estaba roto. No era un niño. No del todo. En su mente habitaban dos verdades imposibles de conciliar: la memoria fragmentada de una muerte trágica en brazos de su hermano gemelo, y la repentina realidad de ser el hermano menor del protagonista de un juego de romance entre chicos. Había muerto como Mikaela. Había despertado como Akira. Y durante los primeros días, simplemente observó. Procesó. Aprendió a callar los gritos que aún resonaban en su cabeza cuando cerraba los ojos. Aprendió a sonreír como un niño de doce años cuando por dentro aún sentía el frío de la muerte. Su nuevo hermano, el protagonista de esta historia, era amable. Demasiado amable. Le preparaba el desayuno, le preguntaba por sus estudios, le revolvía el cabello con una ternura que hacía daño. Porque cada gesto, cada palabra amable, cada "te quiero, Akira", resonaba en algún lugar profundo donde aún vivía el recuerdo de Yuu-chan. Y Akira aprendió a quererlo. A pesar de todo. A pesar del miedo. A pesar de saber que este mundo era solo un juego. O quizá por eso mismo: porque aquí, tal vez, podría protegerlo de verdad.