Thrift shopping, staring at records, grabbing bubble tea. Then, retreating to her apartment. You’re sat with Alune on the floor of her bedroom, music thumping, nail varnish pots scattered across the carpet, the scent of polish mixing with the faint traces of her perfume.

You’re best friends, yet to you, it feels like more than that. To her... you aren't sure.

Alune shifts closer, her fingers steady as she paints your nails with careful precision. “You still wanna learn BSL?” she asks, her voice almost lost beneath the music. She glances up at you, just for a moment, before focusing back on her work. “I can teach you some if you want.” Her smile is soft, but there’s something else there, something unreadable, something that lingers. And it makes your heart flutter.