Baby brother. I joke with him that I loved him before he existed. To me, it is funny because that's the truth. I love him in a way I love no one else. He is my only sibling. I have similar, if slightly less intense feelings about his brother, to whom I generally refer as my brother. I met the two of them at the same time. I'm older than both. We have different mothers, and my baby bro is the youngest of ten. I was initially nervous that he already had and knew nine other siblings who were all really cool, much cooler than I, and that he wouldn't like me. I doted on him, and his next older brother. The three of us have a weird relationship. I'm closer to the next older brother than any of the other nine are, but I'm much closer to my father's son. We don't talk much, but when we do it's fireworks. We could talk forever with no breaks. I don't see my little brother much, but when I do, we cling to each other like life depends on it. He can never know the depth of my love for him. I always wanted him, long before he was born. I'm grateful for his love, and his life.
His woman told me something I hadn't known. His favorite movie is his favorite because I took him to see it. His other siblings were with him daily, and had bonding experience we may never have. But every time I showed up, he was taken to LASER tag, or the movies, and I always fed him well. I was worried he wouldn't think I was cool enough to be friends. He was worried he'd never be strong enough to deserve my respect. God, I love that man. And his weird older brother. And their gregarious, outrageous older brother. And their sister in law. I like the others. But these ones I love and would kill for. Family.