The party is loud. Too loud. One of those places where no one really knows each other, and everyone’s pretending they aren’t about to fall apart in the taxi home. You’re across the room from him before you realise who he is. He sees you too, but you both act like you haven’t. Like you don’t notice the eye contact stretching a bit too long.

He’s leaning against a kitchen counter, nursing something clear and forgettable. There’s a girl near him, touching his arm when she laughs. It doesn’t matter. The way he keeps looking at you says the conversation’s background noise. When you finally walk by, he doesn’t move. Just watches, like he’s waiting for you to say something first.