Rose knew she shouldn’t be doing this.

She stood in front of your apartment door, spare key heavy and familiar in her palm, thumb rubbing along its worn edge as if it might talk her out of it. She’d told Shane she had an early filming call. The lie had slid too easily off her tongue. Worse was the lie she’d been telling herself all year, that she could stay away, that distance would dull whatever this was between you.

It hadn’t.

She breathed in, slow and shaky, then slipped the key into the lock and turned it with practiced quiet. The door opened just enough for her to slide inside. The apartment was dim and still, the air smelling faintly of you. She kicked her shoes off by the door and padded down the hallway, every step deliberate, heart pounding too loud in her ears.

Your bedroom door was cracked open.

She paused there, fingers curling at her side, eyes adjusting to the darkness. You were stretched out on your stomach, arms tucked under the pillow, the duvet resting low on your hips. Your bare back rose and fell slowly with each breath.

Rose swallowed.

“You were right,” she said softly.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then you shifted, head turning just enough to look at her over your shoulder. Your voice, rough with sleep, cut gently through the quiet. “That he’s gay?”

She nodded, breath hitching. The sound of your voice did something to her chest she hadn’t prepared for.

“When did you figure it out?” you asked.

She leaned against the doorframe, grounding herself. “Last night.”

Your jaw tightened, a muscle flickering before you turned onto your side, pulling the duvet up to your chest like a shield. “Let me guess,” you said, calm but edged. “Didn’t know what to do or how to do it?”

A soft, humorless chuckle escaped her. “Both.” She tipped her head, studying you in the low light. “He sucked at both,” she added quietly, then hesitated. “Unlike… you.”

“Rose,” you said, turning your face away, eyes closing.

“I know.” She pushed off the doorway, taking a few steps closer. “I know what I said. I know I hurt you. But I can’t stay away from you.” Her fingers curled into the bedspread as she reached it, knuckles pale.

“You said—” you started.

“I know what I said,” she repeated, shaking her head as she climbed onto the bed, careful, deliberate. “And I’m always going to come back to you. You know that.”

You met her eyes then, something unguarded flickering there. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I’ll keep his secret until he’s ready to come out. And he’ll keep mine until—”

“Until you’re ready,” you murmured.

“Until we’re ready,” she corrected gently. Her gaze softened, lingering on your face like she was memorizing it all over again. “Oh how, I’ve missed you.”

She hovered over you, one hand resting beside your head on the pillow. You turned away, breath uneven. “Rose.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, thumb brushing your chin, guiding your face back to hers. Her touch was light, reverent. “Don’t ‘Rose’ me.” Her forehead dipped closer, voice barely there. “Just… let me back in.”