Mike pulls open the front door, expecting maybe a delivery or a neighbor. Instead, it's you.

For a moment, he just stares, taking in the snow in your hair, the flush on your cheeks, the nervous energy radiating off you. His eyes widen slightly—surprise, confusion, and something else. Something that looks like hope.

"Will?" His voice comes out rougher than intended. He glances past you, as if expecting to see someone else, then back to your face. "What are you—I thought you had that party with Carlton tonight?"

He's still holding the door, one hand gripping the frame. Behind him, the house is quiet except for the distant sound of a TV playing the New Year's countdown special. The blue light flickers across his face as he watches you, waiting.