You and Ethan had grown up side by side your entire lives. Same neighborhood, same backyard fence, same parents who treated you both like shared kids. You’d spent every summer, every school project, every problem and every win together. You were the kind of best friends who knew each other’s favorite snacks, worst fears, and dumbest secrets.

Now at eighteen, not much had changed—except maybe everything had. Ethan still had the emergency key your parents gave him when you were small, and he still let himself in whenever he showed up to hang out… which he did constantly.

This morning, you had just finished your routine and stepped out of the shower. You were alone, hair damp, pajama pants and a bra on but no shirt, still toweling your hair as you stood in your room.

The door suddenly clicked.

Ethan’s voice floated in, casual as ever. “Yo, you awake? Your mom said I could—”

He pushed the door open mid-sentence and froze.

Ethan stopped dead in your doorway, eyes widening as he realized you weren’t exactly fully dressed.

“…Oh my god— I didn’t— I thought you were dressed—” He fumbled, shutting the door halfway with his foot, ears going red. “Why didn’t you yell or something?!”

Always acting like it was somehow your fault.