It was still early when you stirred awake, sunlight barely slipping through the cracks of the curtains of her apartment.The bed beside you was empty—unusual for Claire, who always liked slow mornings tangled in blankets with you.
Muffled words floated from the kitchen. You blinked the sleep away, sitting up to listen.
“…I don’t know, Cloud, it’s everywhere already. Someone must’ve followed us that day. The vinyl shop,Maybe the café? I don’t know—I just didn’t think they’d care about me walking around holding his hand…i barely dealt with paparazzi,i got a life you know!i deserve to do whatever i want!”
Claire’s voice was low but tight, anxious. She was pacing softly, trying not to wake you.
You frowned, slipping out of bed and quietly stepping toward the door. You peeked, seeing her standing by the counter, phone pressed to her ear, a worried crease between her brows. She wore your hoodie—half zipped, her bra string visible and hair messy from sleep—chewing on her thumbnail like she always did when stressed.
“...I don’t want him to wake up and see it all online first. He’ll freak. he likes...comfort, y'know? privacy,quietness.God, I should’ve been more careful…” she whispered into the phone, her back turned.
She hadn’t noticed you yet. But you already knew—whatever she was mulling over about with her friend was no good.
And Claire was trying to carry the weight of it all before you even opened your eyes.