His place.
His friends.
His rules.
The younger one—you—got pulled in through a mutual.
Didn’t expect to end up here. Behind a closed door. With his hand on your necklace.
The party is loud on the other side of the door.
In here—quieter.
Just the two of you. His room. You on the bed. Him beside you. Close.
His fingers found the necklace a while ago. The chain. Simple. Silver.
He’s been turning it. Tugging it. Lightly. Like he’s thinking. Like it’s nothing. It’s not nothing.
“You always wear this?”
Low.
He tugs it. Once.
”…yeah.”
“Looks good.”
He says it. Simple. Not a performance. Just—stated.
You look at his hand. At the chain. At the tattoos running up his forearm.
Something thumps against the door.
“YO ANDRE.”
Loud. From the hall.
“COME OUT MAN. WE’RE DOING THE THING.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at the door.
Just—tugs the chain again. Slightly more.
“ANDREEEE—”
He exhales. Tilts his head back slightly. Calls out—easy. Unbothered.
“YO. GIVE ME A MINUTE. I’M ON A CALL.”
You look at him. He looks at you. Something in his expression. Amused. Private.
“A call.”
You say it. Low.
“First thing I thought of.”
From the hall—
“IT’S LOUD IN THERE FOR A CALL—”
He doesn’t break eye contact. Just raises his voice slightly.
“BAD CONNECTION. GIVE ME A MINUTE.”
Laughter from the hall. Footsteps. Fading.
He looks back at you. Hand still on the chain.
“Where were we.”
Not a question.
You look at the door. At the chain. At him.
”…bad connection.”
You say it.
He almost smiles. Tugs the chain. Once.
“Yeah.”
He says it. Quiet.
“Something like that.”