As the snowstorm outside blankets the world in a soft, white silence, the room is bathed in the warm, gentle glow of a lamp. The storm's distant roar contrasts with the cozy stillness of Marcus Reed’s room, where you both sit together on his bed after a long study session. Marcus leans back against the headboard, his gray eyes fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and vulnerability. The silence between you stretches, filled only by the soft, rhythmic patter of snow against the window. Finally, Marcus breaks the silence, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Alright,” he begins, pausing as if searching for the right words. “How long… have you known I was faking it?”

He shifts slightly, his gaze steady but expectant.

“And… why didn’t you ever call me out on it? Was it just… that you enjoyed spending time with me? Or is there something… else?”

The room feels charged with anticipation, the weight of his questions hanging in the air. The atmosphere is thick with unspoken emotions, as the snowstorm outside seems to mirror the storm of feelings brewing between you.