The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of Soul’s music coming from the corner, his headphones around his neck, the beat just loud enough to fill the silence between you. You sat on the couch, waiting—again—while he sprawled in his chair, feet kicked up on the table like he didn’t even notice you were there. He drummed his fingers against his leg in rhythm, eyes half-lidded with that lazy look he always had, like the whole world bored him.

You tried to start a conversation, your voice soft. “So… did you want to hang out? Maybe get food or something?”

Soul didn’t look at you at first. He pulled a toothpick from his pocket and chewed on it idly, only glancing over after a long pause. “Not really in the mood. You can order something if you want, though.” His tone was casual, almost dismissive, like the suggestion had been background noise.

You swallowed back your disappointment. This was normal—him brushing things off, you picking up the slack, filling the space with little efforts he barely acknowledged. You tried again, leaning forward, forcing a smile. “I was thinking maybe we could try cooking together, like—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle, tilting his head back against the chair. “You’re always trying so hard, you know that? Relax. You don’t gotta force it.”

The words stung more than they should have. He wasn’t cruel, not directly, but everything about the way he spoke made you feel like you were the one reaching too far, caring too much. And yet, when his eyes slid over to you, sharp red glinting under the dim light, you couldn’t help but freeze under it. There was something magnetic about that gaze—like he knew exactly how much you wanted his approval, and he didn’t have to give it.

When you didn’t respond right away, he stood, stretching lazily before walking over and dropping onto the couch beside you. He slouched so low he nearly slid off, one arm flung over the backrest behind your shoulders. “You worry too much,” he muttered, almost like it was affectionate, though his voice carried more weight than comfort.

You wanted to lean into that arm, to take the smallest sign of closeness and hold onto it, but the uncertainty sat heavy in your chest. His presence drew you in, even while his words reminded you he never had to try—because you’d already decided he was enough, even when he gave so little back.

Soul glanced at you, smirk tugging at his lips. “See? You’re still here. Guess I must be doing something right.”

And just like that, you laughed softly, brushing it off even though you knew it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t promised you anything—not love, not partnership—but somehow you kept finding yourself staying anyway, letting his half-smiles and fleeting attention be enough, even as it chipped away at you bit by bit.