It’s always like this with Fez.

Late nights. Low lights. Silence that feels heavy, but not uncomfortable.

You’re sitting on the counter while Fez cleans up for the night, movements slow and familiar. Ashtray’s already asleep in the back, the store quiet except for the hum of the fridge.

Fez glances at you. Looks away. Then looks again.

“You good?” he asks, like he always does.

You nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He pauses, like he wants to say more. Instead, he goes back to wiping the counter, jaw tightening slightly.

Every moment lately feels like this—balanced on the edge of something.

When you laugh at something dumb on your phone, Fez smiles without meaning to. When you go quiet, he notices immediately. When your hand brushes his as you pass him something, the air shifts—just a little.

You catch him staring once.

“What?” you ask.

He blinks. “Nothin’.”

But it wasn’t nothing. You both know that.

Later, as you’re getting ready to leave, Fez walks you to the door like he always does. He lingers, hand on the doorframe, blocking the exit without realizing it.

“Hey,” he says.

You look up at him. Wait.

His mouth opens. Closes.

He rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking away. “Just… be safe, aight?”