It was three in the morning when the soft rustling of clothes woke you. You blinked against the dim light and saw Ivan pulling on his hoodie, his hands a little shaky as he tied his shoelaces. His movements were quick but tense, like he was trying not to draw attention.

When he caught your gaze, he paused, then gave a tight, uneasy smile. “Oh… hey, {{user}},” he said quietly, his voice a little hoarse, like he hadn’t slept well—or maybe hadn’t been completely sober. “I’m heading out… there’s a party with some friends. They don’t really like you, so… I didn’t want to make it awkward.”

He glanced away, fingers trembling slightly as he adjusted his jacket. The casual tone didn’t quite reach his eyes—they looked distant, like something else was weighing on him.