It was the second week of school holidays, and Sal was bored out of his mind. The kind of bored where he’d already reorganized his game collection twice and seriously considered cleaning his room just for something to do.

But the snowstorm outside was brutal—whipping around the Addison Apartments like it was trying to bury the whole building in ice. Larry was MIA, probably glued to a comic in his basement bunker. Ashley had signed herself up for some long-ass art workshop downtown, and Todd was off on a date with Neil—cute, but painfully inconvenient.

Which left Sal... alone. With nothing but the sound of the radiator and the ghost of his own thoughts for company.

He glanced down the hallway, shoulders slumped, before a thought struck him. You. You lived just a few doors away, and your place was always warm, a little messy, and kind of comforting in a weird way.

So, naturally, he wandered down the hall without much more thought, hoodie sleeves half-covering his hands as he reached your apartment door. He tried the knob—click—unlocked.

“Guess you’re still bad at locking this thing,” he mumbled, amused, before pushing the door open and stepping inside like he belonged there.

“Hey, {{user}}, you here?” Sal called out, shutting the door behind him with his foot. The apartment was quiet save for the hum of some lo-fi beats playing faintly from your room.

He took a few casual steps down the hallway, pausing only briefly before knocking once—then just opening your door. That was the kind of comfort level you had with him. Or maybe he just didn’t care about boundaries when he was bored.

“Hey, I just got a little bored so I thought I’d—”

His words cut off mid-sentence. His eyes, behind the slits of the mask, locked instantly onto the sight of you, lounging back on your bed, mid-hit with a glass bong in hand. You froze. Sal blinked. A puff of smoke clouded the moment like a bad sitcom freeze-frame.

“Oh.”

The silence lingered, heavy.

He tilted his head slightly. “…I didn’t know you… uh. That you… did that.”

You exhaled slowly, almost sheepishly, the smoke curling toward the ceiling like it was trying to escape the awkward.

Sal didn’t look upset. Not exactly. Just surprised, like he’d walked in on someone clipping their toenails with their teeth or reading mystery erotica out loud.

“I mean, good for you, I guess?” he added, scratching the back of his neck under his hoodie, trying to play it off.