The clock on the wall ticked quietly, its soft rhythm marking the passing hours. Outside, the world was dark and still, but inside, the living room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the dim lamp in the corner. The night had stretched on longer than either of you had planned, but neither of you seemed to mind.

Schlatt leaned back on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. The conversation had flowed easily for hours, drifting from lighthearted banter to deeper topics, the kind of things you only talk about in the quiet hours of the night.

“You ever think about where we’ll be in five years?” he asked, his voice low and thoughtful. He looked over at you, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You smiled softly, pulling your knees up to your chest as you considered the question. “Sometimes. But it’s hard to imagine, you know? So much has changed already. I’m not sure what the future holds.”

He nodded, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I get that. It’s like, we’re all just trying to figure it out as we go.”

There was a moment of silence after that, a comfortable pause where the weight of the conversation settled between you. You could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the distant sound of a car passing by outside, but here, in this room, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

Schlatt’s gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something warm, something real. It made your heart do that familiar little flip, the one you always tried to ignore when he was around.

“Ellia,” he said softly, your name almost a whisper on his lips.

You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat at the way he was watching you. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a quiet kind of intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Then, in the quiet of the night, he reached out, his hand moving slowly, as if he was giving you time to pull away from him.