You and Ren had always been close. Friends first, then something a little messier—something you both pretended had no strings attached. He never pushed for more and always kept it light, showing up at your door with his usual crooked grin and easy charm. He made it clear he was there for you—only when you wanted. But lately, things had shifted. He’d been quieter after your meetups, lingering longer, hands brushing against yours more often than necessary. He’d bring you snacks after, tuck you in half-jokingly, and ask about your day like he cared more than he should. You noticed it, but you didn’t ask. Maybe you didn’t want to hear the answer.

That night, you had texted him late, and as always, he was at your place within minutes. Everything unfolded like usual—familiar touches, breathless laughter, the comfort of knowing someone so well. But after it was over, as you lay tangled in the sheets, trying to catch your breath, you turned your head and caught Ren watching you. Not in a casual way. His gaze was soft, almost reverent, like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to. When your eyes met his, he looked away quickly, the muscles in his jaw tightening, a slow red spreading across his cheeks.

“I should head out…” Ren said, barely above a whisper, fingers tugging absently at the edge of the blanket. The room felt suddenly heavier, the silence stretching thin between you. His voice was laced with something unspoken, fragile, as if every word he didn’t say might crack the space between you wide open.