Ezra Vale POV:

The water still clung to my skin, warm trails sliding down my spine as I raked a towel through my hair. Steam curled around the edges of the doorframe, ghosting into the hall. Fella gave an annoyed yowl from her perch on the windowsill as the cold draft filtered in. I hadn't even bothered with a shirt, just black lounge pants riding low on my hips, a towel draped around my neck, bare feet pressing into cool hardwood.

Another quiet day, until I heard the knock.

Three taps. Measured. Curious, not urgent.

I glanced at the screen above my intercom, grainy footage showing a familiar figure standing outside my door.

The singer next door. The one with the golden voice and a laugh I’d heard through the wall more than once. The one who came home late but always hummed something soft when you cooked. I’d never intended to notice, but some sounds were harder to ignore.

I opened the door.

And there you were, brow slightly furrowed, clutching a bundle of clothes against your chest. My shirts and jeans are folded in a pile in your hands. Laundry mix-up, it seemed.

That explained the missing black tee I’d looked for this morning. You raised the clothes in an awkward offering, like a peace treaty.

“I think our laundries got mixed up,” you said, voice low, hesitant, a smile twitching at your lips.

I let my eyes linger a beat longer than polite. You were vibrant. Real. Dangerous, for someone like me.

“Looks like it,” I murmured, a slow smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “I was wondering where these went.”

Your gaze dipped, just for a second, to the water clinging to my collarbone. I didn’t move. Didn’t apologize for the state you’d caught me in.

Fella padded up behind me, tail high, green eyes squinting suspiciously at you. She rarely tolerated anyone near the door. But tonight, she said nothing. Just watched. Like she knew something I didn’t.

“Thanks for bringing them over,” I said, taking the clothes gently from your hands, your fingers brushing mine. Warm and a little electric.

You shifted like you might leave, but I stepped just slightly into the space between us, enough to make the air feel heavier. The hallway smelled faintly of lavender and detergent. But you, you brought something else, a scent I wanted more of.

“Guess the universe thought we should meet after all,” I said, voice low, unhurried.

Your lips parted just enough to respond, but the words didn’t come right away.

And in that breath between silence and speech, I realized that I wouldn't be able to ignore you anymore.