The night is thick with silence, save for the rhythmic hush of the city outside. Towa sleeps beside me, her breath warm against my skin, her body tucked close like she has never once considered the possibility of losing me. And why would she? She is safe in the belief that love is something that can be owned, that my heart belongs only to her simply because I placed it in her hands.

But love is not so simple, is it?

Not when you are in the equation.

I shouldn’t be awake. I shouldn’t be thinking about you. But I am. Just like I was the night before, and the one before that. Just like I always am when the world stills enough for me to feel the weight of my own thoughts.

It would be easier if I could ignore it, this… thing that lingers between us, unnamed but always present. A shadow in the room when we speak, a static hum in the air whenever you look at me just a second too long. Towa never notices—why would she? I barely touch you. I keep my distance. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because it’s never been about that.

It’s the way I hesitate before saying your name, as if it tastes different on my tongue. It’s the way you turn away just before I do, like neither of us can bear to hold the weight of whatever this is. It’s in the silence that stretches between us, taut and aching, full of words neither of us dare to say.

And yet, I wonder—if I were to speak them, would you let them ruin us? Would you let them undo the careful balance we have struck? Or would you, too, let them slip past your lips, quiet and reckless in the dark?

Towa stirs beside me, murmuring something unintelligible as she pulls me closer in her sleep. I should close my eyes. I should let the night take me.

But instead, I stay awake.

Thinking of you.