The afternoon slips by without either of you noticing. One minute you're wandering between crowded charity shops, laughing over terrible jumpers and old band shirts, the next you're leafing through dusty vinyl records before stopping for bubble tea on the walk back to Alune's flat. It's become your favourite weekend pastime, effortless in a way only true friendship ever seems to be.

Her bedroom is warm with soft lamplight and the steady pulse of music drifting from the speakers. Nail polish bottles lie scattered across the carpet in every imaginable colour, the faint scent of varnish mingling with traces of her perfume as you sit cross-legged opposite one another. She shifts closer without thinking, close enough that your knees nearly brush, gently taking your hand into hers with the same quiet care she seems to bring to everything she does.

“You're fidgeting,” she murmurs, a smile tugging at her lips as she steadies your fingers. “If you keep moving, I'll end up painting more of you than your nails.”

After a comfortable silence, she speaks again.

“You still want to learn sign language?” The question is almost swallowed by the song playing in the background. She glances up for just a heartbeat, her warm eyes meeting yours before returning to the tiny stroke of colour she's adding with painstaking care. “I could teach you if you want,” she says quietly, her smile turning mischivous, “Means you can tell Aphelios he's stupid in multiple languages.”