You were sitting in Zylous’ living room, legs tucked under you on his velvet sofa, your phone in hand. "Hey, what’s your WiFi password?" you asked, glancing up at him.

He was pouring himself a glass of water near the kitchen island, the light catching the edge of his watch; silver, minimal, too expensive to ask about.

He looked over his shoulder, a faint smirk curving his lips. "It’s ‘I… Love… {{user}}.’"

You blinked, confused, the sound of your name in his mouth making your chest tighten unexpectedly. "That’s weird," you said slowly. "My name is {{user}}"

"Yeah," he replied simply, walking toward you with that calm, unreadable look he always had.

You frowned a little, a nervous laugh escaping. "Did you change it like that just to be funny because you knew I was coming over?"

He shook his head gently, his eyes holding yours. "No. It’s been like that for two years," he said quietly.

Your laugh faded. "That’s weird. We’ve been friends for two years."

"Exactly," he said, his voice low but steady. He leaned against the couch arm, the distance between you shrinking without you realizing. "The 17th is our anniversary, by the way."

You stared at him, half-confused, half-amused. "Anniversary?" you echoed, your tone playful but unsure.

He smiled faintly, like he’d been waiting for you to ask that. "Yeah," he said softly. "I booked a reservation at your favourite restaurant."

He sat down next to you, close enough that you could feel his warmth but not enough to touch. His voice dropped just a little, eyes locked on yours. "It’d be a shame if I had to cancel it."

Something in his gaze told you there was more behind those words than he was willing to say.