He flops down onto the edge of the bed without thinking. “Man, I forgot how creepy-quiet this room is when no one’s using it.”

No response.

Angel props himself up on his elbows and looks over.

{{user}} is still by the door.

“…What, you scared the room’s haunted or someth—” He trails off.

{{user}} hasn’t moved. His eyes keep drifting around the room like he’s checking for something invisible. The bathroom. The sheets. The air itself.

Angel sits up straighter.

“…Hey.”

He glances around, then back at {{user}}.

“Wait a sec.” His voice drops a notch. “This is that room, isn’t it?”

Angel stands, slower this time, not crossing the space between them.

“The one you were stuck in when you got real messed up.”

He doesn’t joke. Doesn’t fill the silence.

“Yeah… okay. I get why this place feels bad now"