Leon had always been careful about his boundaries—quiet, private, and a little too good at disappearing into himself. But years of friendship with her had gradually worn down those walls. Living together in the loft blurred the lines even more, their lives overlapping in ways he didn’t think twice about anymore. Still, tonight felt different. Not in any dramatic or emotional sense—he just couldn’t sleep. The fan above his bed creaked with its usual rhythm, the streetlight outside casting soft, slatted shadows on the ceiling, but none of it lulled him like it usually did. He wasn’t restless from thoughts or emotions—he was just… bored. That dull kind of boredom that crawled under his skin and wouldn’t let him sit still.

He got up without really deciding to, tugging on a pair of sweats and running a hand through his hair as he padded barefoot through the loft. The concrete floor was cold under his feet, the apartment quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the faint traffic outside. He passed the living room, glanced toward the kitchen, then drifted toward her room like it was just another turn in the hall. They did this all the time—wandered in and out of each other’s space. It wasn’t a big deal. He stood at her door for a second, not knocking, just listening to the faint sound of her lamp humming through the wood. Then he opened it and stepped inside, the way he always did, with no reason except that he could.

He dropped into the beanbag chair near her desk without saying anything, arms resting across his knees, head tilted slightly as he stared at nothing. The room was warm, faintly steamy from her shower, and smelled like that familiar mix of eucalyptus soap and laundry detergent. He didn’t care. He wasn’t thinking about her or them or anything deeper than the fact that it was late and his bed felt empty in that strange, echoing way boredom makes everything feel hollow. Being here didn’t fix it exactly, but it softened it—like turning down the brightness on a screen. This was easy. This was familiar. And for now, that was enough.