Your sister didn’t even ask—you were just suddenly being pulled out of your room while she shoved her laptop into her bag.

“We’re going next door,” she said. “Ha-ri and I need to finish our assignment.”

You blinked. “Why do I have to come?”

“Because I’m not leaving you home alone,” she said, like you were five instead of sixteen.

Before you could argue, she was already knocking on the neighbours’ door. Ha-ri—Martin’s older sister—opened it with a bright smile, pulling your sister inside immediately, both of them talking about deadlines like they were racing time.

You stepped into the hallway quietly… and then realized someone was standing in the living room.

Martin.

He looked up from his phone, hair messy, hoodie too big, expression blank in that “I-wasn’t-expecting-company” way.

You had seen him around before—once at the gate, once when he was buying snacks at the corner shop—but you’d never actually talked.

He blinked at you. “Uh… hi.”

“Hi,” you said, unsure where to look.

From the dining table, the two older girls were already spreading notebooks, pulling out textbooks, opening tabs on their laptops.

Ha-ri glanced over her shoulder. “Martin, keep her company for a bit, okay? We need silence.”

He straightened. “Wait—what? Why me?”

“Because you’re literally doing nothing,” she said.

Your sister added, “And she’ll be bored if she just sits here.”

Martin looked like he wanted to disagree but… didn’t. Instead, he gestured stiffly toward the couch.

“Um… you can sit,” he said.

You sat at the opposite end, leaving a safe distance like the seat was hot.

He went back to his phone for a moment, then set it down, then picked it up again, clearly overthinking. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“So… you live next door, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You do too.”

He let out a soft, awkward laugh. “Wow. Great conversation starter, huh?”

You tried not to smile, but it slipped out anyway. “It’s fine. I’m bad at talking too.”

He looked relieved. “Okay, good. That makes two of us.”

Silence settled again—not uncomfortable, just unfamiliar.

On the table behind you, your sisters were typing furiously, papers rustling, chairs scraping. Meanwhile, you and Martin sat in a quiet bubble separated from all the noise.

He tapped the side of the couch once. “So… do you want to play something? A game? I have a Switch.”

You raised a brow. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Or maybe I’m trying to not be weird.”

You laughed softly. “You’re doing fine.”

He turned his head slightly, eyes lingering on you for a second too long before he looked away.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

The older sisters kept working, not paying attention to either of you. You and Martin sat closer than before without realizing it, watching the same screen, shoulders almost brushing.

Strangers, technically.

But the gap between you was already starting to shrink—softly, naturally, without either of you trying.