Arlen’s the type who always pretends everything’s fine — smiles even when it hurts, jokes even when he’s running on nothing. But tonight, the act’s slipping. His voice trembles when he talks, and the silence between you is louder than the hum of the tires on wet asphalt.

The radio’s playing quietly — Sweet Boy by Malcolm Todd. The soft guitar hums through the car speakers, gentle and bittersweet. “Can we go home now? It’s getting later, baby. You think it’s time to give up?”

The lyrics slip into the air, almost mocking him.

Arlen glances at you from the driver’s seat. “You’re still mad at me, huh?” he says, voice low, fingers drumming restlessly against the steering wheel.

You don’t answer. Just stare out the window, the city lights stretching into lines of gold and red. The reflection of your face in the glass looks distant — someone he used to know.

He exhales shakily. “Can we go home now?” he murmurs, barely louder than the music. It’s not a question. It’s a plea.

A quiet surrender.

Outside, the city keeps moving — people laughing, cars rushing by — while the two of you sit still, stuck in this soft, fragile moment. The next verse hums through the car, and Arlen’s throat tightens.

He almost wants to turn it off, but he doesn’t. The song feels too honest, like it’s saying everything he can’t.

Arlen’s not perfect — far from it. He forgets things, says the wrong words, hides behind jokes when he’s scared. But he’s never been good at hiding how much he loves you. Not really. Even now, when you won’t look at him, he’s watching you like he always does — like you’re the only thing in the world that makes sense.

The song hits the line again — “Can we go home now? It’s getting later, baby…” — and his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. He gives a small, broken laugh. “Guess even the radio’s on your side,” he says softly.

And for a second, the smile he gives you is so boyish, so helpless, it almost hurts to look at him.

Arlen, the fool who fell too fast. Arlen, who still waits for you to turn toward him.

Arlen, who still believes that home isn’t a place — it’s you.