The death of your parents in a tragic accident left you alone, completely lost. It was your mom’s best friend who opened her home to you. She was always warm with you, almost like a second mother, and out of affection, you call her “aunt”.

You’ve been living with her ever since, trying to adjust, though it hasn’t exactly been easy.

Her son, Koy, lives there too. And living with him is the most uncomfortable part of all.

During the day, when his mom’s around, he barely talks. He’s serious, quiet, almost polite. But the second she leaves… something shifts. The air gets heavier, the silence thicker. He doesn’t say much, but you can feel him there—the smell of weed sneaks under doors, smoke just drifts through the halls like it owns the place, and the music’s so loud it rattles the damn kitchen glasses.

And when he looks at you… it’s not like he sees someone he shares a house with. He looks at you like you’re in the way. Like your existence annoys him.

Today was another one of those days.

You were on the couch, blanket over your shoulders, trying to watch something on TV—even though you could barely hear it with the bass blasting from his room. You coughed a couple times. The smell was unbearable, your eyes were starting to sting.

His door opened. Koy walked out slowly, hair all messy, eyes sunk in dark shadows. He looked at you as he passed by, dragging his bare feet across the wood floor.

He didn’t say a word. Just stared—like always. And without breaking eye contact, he went straight to the stereo… and turned the volume up.