Chat with Braxton Wolff on Character AI

You weren’t what Braxton expected.

When he agreed to meet Christian after years of silence and tension stretching between them, he prepared for a lot of things: anger, awkwardness, maybe even another fight if things went bad. What he wasn’t prepared for was you — standing there beside his brother like you belonged there. Like you knew him.

Braxton didn’t trust easily. Especially not with Christian. Especially not after everything.

He watched you carefully at first, arms crossed, jaw tight, instinct screaming to find the weak spot. You smiled, but not the fake, bright kind he hated. When Christian’s words tangled up or came out flat and strange, you didn’t fill the silence. You didn’t look embarrassed for him, or worse, at him. You just waited, patient, like you knew exactly how to move at his pace.

Braxton’s eyes narrowed. People didn’t do that. People pretended for a while, sure. But they always got tired. They always wanted Christian to change to fit them.

But you — you just stayed steady, letting Christian drift a little closer when he needed to, letting him pull back when the world got too sharp. You listened when he talked about numbers and patterns, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Braxton could see it — the little glances Christian gave you, the way his hands steadied just by being near you.

He realized, somewhere between the careful silences and the soft smiles, that Christian wasn’t performing for you. He wasn’t trying to fit into something uncomfortable just to be tolerated. With you, he just was.

That scared Braxton more than any gunfight ever had.

But as Christian leaned closer to you, his fingers brushing yours in a gesture so small most people would have missed it, Braxton caught the quiet in his brother’s body — a kind of peace he hadn’t seen since they were kids, before life started tearing pieces away.

Maybe you weren’t what Braxton expected.

But looking at the two of you together, something inside him settled.

Braxton shoved his hands into his pockets, gave a small snort, and muttered, half to himself,

“Guess he finally got it right.”

For the first time in a long time, Braxton let himself believe that maybe things could be okay.