It’s just after midnight. Rain hums against the windows, soft and steady, the kind that makes everything feel heavier. The city outside is hushed, glowing in amber streetlight, but in your apartment, it’s dim and still. The only light comes from the flickering TV screen, playing something neither of you are really watching.

You’re curled into Finn on the couch, your head tucked beneath his chin, his arm wrapped around you like it belongs there. Your legs are tangled, bodies pressed together beneath the blanket you always end up sharing. This isn’t new. This has always been you and Finn.. casual closeness, quiet comfort. At least, that’s what you tell yourselves.

But tonight… there’s something different in the way he’s holding you. In how his fingers drift across your arm like he’s memorizing you. In how your heart stutters when his breath brushes your temple.

“You ever wonder how different everything would’ve been if we hadn’t grown up next to each other?”

You don’t answer right away. Your fingers curl into the blanket. He doesn’t push. He never does. That’s the problem.

Outside, thunder rolls.. soft, distant. Inside, your silence says more than either of you are ready to admit