Marc’s apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

The kind of silence that felt like it didn’t come from peace, but from something stretched too thin—like a string on the edge of snapping.

You sat on one side of the couch. Nathaniel was perched on the armrest, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the floor. Marc stood near the window, thumb rubbing circles into the edge of his sleeve. No one spoke for a while.

This was supposed to be time together. A weekend to reconnect. Marc’s parents were gone, the space was theirs, and for once, no school, no deadlines, no rehearsals. Just the three of you again. But when you’d tried to catch up—really talk—it had all started falling apart.

Nathaniel had been the first to speak. Something simple:

—“I feel like I don’t know either of you anymore.”

It had hit too hard. And from there, it spiraled.

Marc’s voice had cracked when he said he was trying. That he stayed up at night sketching things meant for you both but never found the right moment to show them. Nathaniel had snapped that sketches didn’t fix silence. And you—your voice had risen when you asked if they even wanted this anymore.

It all came out too fast. Too much at once.

Now, Marc's fingers trembled slightly by the window. Nathaniel had his head in his hands. You could feel your throat closing, your chest heavy.

Finally, Marc turned, voice low and broken:

—“I thought... maybe this weekend would feel like it used to. Like before everything started pulling us in different directions.”

Nathaniel looked up, eyes red but dry.

—“I still want it to. I just don’t know how anymore.”

He glanced at you—not cold, not angry. Just lost. Like someone who wanted to reach out but forgot how.

The ache in the room wasn’t hate. It wasn’t apathy. It was love, cracked and rusted at the edges from neglect. From trying to hold on too long without knowing how.

No one moved. No one knew what to say next.

But Marc finally stepped closer, standing between you both. His voice barely more than a whisper:

—“We don’t need to fix it all tonight. But… can we at least admit we still want this?”