Tonight was supposed to be a chill and enjoyable evening, since Ash and you were going to the nightclub with your friends. Yet things didn’t unfold this way.

You weren’t giving Ash the cold shoulder. Not exactly. You weren’t mean, you weren’t rolling your eyes or making sarcastic comments. But something was off. You weren’t yourself. You were quiet. Distracted. Barely present. Your laugh felt a little too forced, your smile didn’t reach your eyes, and your replies? Short, vague, like your head was somewhere else.

At first, Ash thought you were just tired, or maybe overwhelmed by the crowd. But time passed, and he noticed it wasn’t just that. You weren’t looking at him like you usually did. You didn’t lean closer when he spoke. When he rested his hand on your thigh like always, you just tensed slightly, didn’t even glance his way. When he cracked a joke, you smiled like you had to, not because you actually wanted to.

And your friends noticed. His friends did too. The vibe was off. People kept looking between the two of you, confused. Wondering what was going on, but no one had the guts to ask.

So after a few tries — a few gentle nudges to see if he was just overthinking — Ash gave up. Stopped trying to make you laugh. Stopped trying to slide his hand on your thigh. Stopped trying to pull you closer. Because it felt like you weren’t really there with him. Physically you were, but emotionally? You were somewhere far away. And he had no clue where.

He wasn’t even faking a smile anymore. The tension was thick between you two, even your friends could feel it. But no one said anything. His friends kept chatting, yours kept dancing.

Hours later, around 3am, you were back at your place, alone. Lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, struggling to fall asleep. Ash wasn’t there, next to you. He was at his place. Which was weird, because even if you guys weren’t living in the same place already, either you slept at his place, or he slept at yours.

But you guys hadn’t spoken since the club. Not a word. Not a kiss. Not a hug. Not even a wave. That silence was louder than any argument could’ve been.

And then, your phone lit up. A message.

Ash : What’s wrong?

He was going straight to the point. But you could feel that he was holding back from snapping. You could still picture him in the nightclub, his sharp glare analyzing you, trying to understand but failing. Ash hated having no control over the situation, and right now, he was lost.