It’s late, just past 11, and the house feels too big for how quiet it is. The kind of quiet that doesn’t feel peaceful, just empty.

You’re curled up on the oversized couch in the living room, knees pulled to your chest under a blanket that’s slightly too warm now. The TV plays something you’re not really paying attention to anymore, just background noise and flickering light washing over the room in soft blues and greys.

Maddy had left earlier. She said she was going with her on and off boyfriend Nate to a party, then an hour later, she was back in a storm of slammed doors and sharp words. Something about a fight. Something about Nate being “impossible.” And then she was gone again, probably back to the party, this time alone, heels clicking fast down the driveway like she couldn’t get away quickly enough.

Now it’s just you. Mom’s at work for another night shift. Dad’s… somewhere. Probably not sober enough to matter. The house belongs to silence and the hum of distant traffic outside.

You were still on the couch, blanket pulled up around you, the TV playing softly but mostly ignored. Your eyes kept drifting between the screen and the dark windows reflecting the living room back at you. Every now and then, you’d check your phone out of habit, even though there was nothing new. No texts from Maddy, no updates.

You almost didnt hear the doorbell ringing because of the TV on full volume, just 'cause the faint tick of the clock on the wall annoyed you too much.

This time, you didn’t move right away. You just stared at the hallway leading to the front door, like if you ignored it long enough it might stop ringing. But it rang again, shorter this time, more deliberate.

You let out a quiet breath and stood up, irritation mixing with curiosity now as you walked over. The floor felt colder than before, and the house suddenly seemed louder in all the wrong ways — the ticking clock, the faint buzz of the porch light outside, your own footsteps.

When you reached the door, you didn’t hesitate as long as you intended to, opening it.

And of fucking course, it was him. Nate Jacobs. Standing there like he wasn’t just the reason your sister had come home angry hours ago. Like he hadn’t been part of the chaos you were trying to avoid tonight.

His eyes lifted the moment the door opened, locking onto you. There was a flicker of something in his expression, brief surprise, quickly smoothed over.

Not Maddy. But he didn’t leave.

“Hey,” he said, voice even, like he’d practiced sounding calm, his gaze staying on you, “Is your sister here?” he tilted his head slightly, just enough to look past you into the house without actually stepping in.