𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

The hum of the game filled the room — faint background music, distant gunfire, and the occasional sound of Silas’s controller clicking steadily under his fingers.

You were curled up sideways on his bed, head resting on your arm, watching the TV screen in front of you. He sat cross-legged on the floor, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes focused, thumb flicking over the joystick with practiced ease.

His headset was resting around his neck — no friends online tonight, just him playing through some campaign, completely absorbed. Every so often, he’d mumble something like “This part’s tricky,” or “Almost got it,” more to himself than to you.

You tried to keep your attention on the screen, really. But the game moved slow, the colors all sort of blurred together, and you weren’t exactly sure what the objective was anymore. Your eyes drifted from the screen to his hair — slightly messy, soft brown curls falling near his ear — to the way his shoulders tensed a little when things got intense.

You didn’t say anything. Just let your gaze wander.

You reached for your phone, checked it, scrolled a little, then put it down again.

Still quiet.

After a few more minutes, Silas tilted his head slightly without turning around. “You good?”

You blinked. “Hm? Yeah. I’m fine.”

He paused the game.

“Too boring?” he asked, glancing back at you with that soft, knowing look — the kind where he wasn’t teasing, just gently checking in.