The noise downstairs was constant — voices, music, the unmistakable chaos of a half-prepared party. From the window, you could hear laughter, footsteps, someone shouting that they’d run out of ice or cups. You and Freddie had come upstairs a while ago, escaping the mess with the vaguest excuse possible. Organising things was never really your thing. Or his. It was easier to let the others deal with it — after all, it was his house. He had the right to disappear for a bit, and you weren’t going to waste the chance to disappear with him.

You had gone upstairs just to escape — from the noise, from your friends, from the kind of responsibility Freddie always avoided so effortlessly. “Let them handle it” he’d said, laughing, before pulling you into his room. And, as always, you followed.

You were on top of him, your knees sinking into the mattress that had already given in to the weight of too many stories that weren’t yours. Freddie’s hands traced the line of your waist, fingertips playing with the small strip of skin left between your blouse and your jeans — as if he could still discover something new every time he touched you. The past few weeks had been like this, kisses that left you breathless, jokes without context, avoiding too much talk. Everything felt new. Light. And somehow, enough.

Freddie looked at you with that calm of his half-distracted, as if the world outside didn’t exist. You leaned closer, searching for his mouth, and for a few seconds there was only the warmth, the sound of your shared breathing, the quiet rhythm you’d fallen into so easily.

And then, the door opened.

Effy.

She didn’t knock. She didn’t have to say anything. The silence became a presence, thick and heavy. She stood there at the threshold, eyes fixed on Freddie. Then on you. Then on him again.

Freddie froze underneath you — just a little, but you felt it. You moved aside clumsily, fixing your blouse, not sure what to do with your hands. You could tell she’d come looking for Freddie, not expecting to find you there.

It was strange, that tension. Like something invisible had been remembered too loudly.

You didn’t really know what had happened between them —if anything had even happened at all. Sometimes you noticed it in the silences, in the way their eyes met for a second too long when she was around. But you’d never asked. Between classes, parties, and all the time you spent tangled in each other, there was never room for that kind of conversation. And maybe you weren’t sure if you wanted there to be.

“Can I talk to you?” Effy asked finally, her voice calm but her eyes steady on him.

Your body shrank a little, uncomfortable, as if you were suddenly intruding on something that wasn’t yours to begin with. Freddie just nodded, though his voice sounded uncertain, and gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ll be right back.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips —out of habit more than anything— before standing up. Effy was already waiting in the hallway. When the door closed behind them, the silence felt heavier than before.

The room still smelled like him —smoke, warmth, and that mix of calm and chaos that seemed to follow him everywhere.

You waited. Minutes slipped by, the kind that feel longer than they should. When the door finally opened, Freddie stepped back inside. He looked the same —calm, composed— but his shoulders were tense, and something in the air between you had shifted. It wasn’t loud or visible, just… different. Whatever had been said out there, it stayed with him, trailing in after him like smoke.