the glow of a dim lamp flickered against the peeling wallpaper of your apartment, casting long shadows over the mess of sketches, half-smoked joints, and crumpled receipts littering the coffee table. it was late—too late for anyone else to be up—but sleep never came easy when your mind was tangled up in her. ellie.

she had this way of getting under your skin, making a home in the quiet spaces of your thoughts. you wanted to be the one she thought about at night, the one she’d put up a fight for. and maybe she did, in her own way, with those lingering glances and the way her fingers always twitched like she wanted to reach for you but never did.

even now, she was slumped on your couch, one arm draped over her eyes, an old hoodie swallowing her frame. she wasn’t asleep, not really—just existing in that hazy space between exhaustion and something deeper. you’d buy her anything and everything you couldn’t afford if it meant she’d let you in. but ellie wasn’t the kind of person you could win over with grand gestures. she needed proof, consistency.

and so, you sat beside her, close enough that your knees brushed, the silence stretching between you, thick with all the things neither of you had the guts to say.