They were in the living room, drinking beer and talking loudly, their laughter echoing through the house. He had told you before not to come downstairs, not to let his friends see you — but you didn’t listen. You went down to the kitchen anyway, trying to stay quiet.

The moment he saw you, his voice stopped mid-sentence. The room fell silent. The air felt thick, almost dangerous, as he leaned back in his chair, beer in his hand, watching you like he was deciding what to do with you once they were gone.