Eli is your best friend. Loud, charming, always talking over everyone with a laugh and a clever comeback. But when it’s just you and him? He quiets. Like a storm holding its breath.

You were sprawled on his bed, kicking your legs as you gushed about your latest crush, barely noticing the way Eli’s fingers froze halfway through tying his hoodie string.

“She’s so perfect,” you beamed. “She has this little habit of biting her lip when she’s focused? And she always carries that dumb pink water bottle like a comfort item—God, I think I’m in love.”

He sat beside you, half-listening. Half not.

“Blah blah blah…” He continued, giggling, too wrapped up in daydreams to notice his hands clenched into the blanket.

Then—softly—he muttered something.

You paused. “Did you say something?”

Eli blinked like you’d caught him doing something wrong. His hand went straight to the back of his neck, fingers awkwardly scratching as he looked away. “…No. Forget it.”

You tilted your head, frowning slightly. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You didn’t press. But part of you knew. He wasn’t quiet because he had nothing to say. He was quiet because what he wanted to say… Was your name.