For six months now, you had been sharing an apartment at the university with Peter Cole.

At first, the two of you were nothing more than roommates. Two strangers learning how to coexist.

You couldn’t have been more different.

You were quiet and methodical, someone who liked routine and silence. Peter was electric, outgoing, always with loud music and an easy laugh.

And somehow… it worked.

You went to class together in the mornings. After that, you headed to your shift at the library while he disappeared toward the campus basketball practices. At night, without fail, the two of you ended up back on the same couch—complaining about classes, sharing food, existing in the same space with a naturalness that surprised you.

Some nights a week, Peter went out.

And then the apartment was just yours.

Sometimes he came back with company—the sound of the door opening too late, muffled laughter in the hallway. And worse: in the morning, when the girl crossed the living room on her way out, the look she shot you seemed to say you shouldn’t be here.

Still, you never commented on it.

In the end, things stayed… good.

Two months ago, everything shifted.

You ordered Chinese food and ended up with a legendary case of food poisoning. Four days trapped in the apartment, taking turns bringing water, medicine, and making weak jokes between waves of nausea.

You took care of each other.

It was during those miserable nights that something different began to form.

Since then, Thursdays had become sacred territory.

The couch. Citrus gummy candies. Old movies.

Nothing romantic.

Platonic. Comforting. Safe.

And honestly?

The best part of the week.

Now you were there again.

Kill Bill was reaching its final moments on the television, but you barely noticed. At some point during the movie, your bodies had drifted closer—too naturally to be accidental. Your head rested on his shoulder. His arm was draped around you like it had always belonged there.

But this was just friendship.

Right?

The problem was that your chest tightened in a strange way.

And you couldn’t remember the last time something as simple as sitting next to someone had felt… far too important.