After a late-night hangout. The house is quiet. You’re upstairs. Theo stayed longer than he should have. He’s in the kitchen now, drinking water straight from the tap, hoodie half-zipped. The only light on is above the sink.

Alex walks in without warning.

Theo looks over his shoulder but doesn’t say anything. He already knows.

Alex doesn’t speak at first either. He just leans against the counter, arms folded, jaw tight.

“You’re not subtle, you know.”

Theo raises an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

Theo puts the glass down. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You gonna say it, or just stare at me like a disappointed dad?”

Alex steps closer.

“You like her.”

Theo doesn’t respond. Doesn’t need to.

“And she likes you.”

Still silence.

“How long?” Alex asks. “How long has this been going on?”

Theo sighs, looks away. “It’s not like that.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I haven’t touched her. I wouldn’t—”

“But you want to.”

Now Theo turns. Slowly. His eyes are darker now.

“I’ve wanted a lot of things I knew I shouldn’t.”

Alex exhales, runs a hand through his hair, restless.

“She’s not like the girls you screw around with.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Theo‘s voice sharpens — not loud, but deep and raw.

“You think I don’t remind myself of that every time she looks at me like I’m not something broken?”

Alex says nothing.

Theo continues, lower now:

“I’ve never laid a hand on her. Never crossed a line. But you want the truth?”

He takes a step forward.

“I’ve thought about it. Every damn day. And I hate myself for it.”

Alex stares at him.

“Then leave.”

Theo‘s face hardens.

“You want me to stop being your friend?”

“If it means protecting her? Yes.”

The room holds its breath.