Neuvillette was never someone impulsive. He used to think before he speak, look before judging. But lately, his judgment was tarnished by something he couldn’t control: the silence that settled between the two of them.

When he used to try to find why the distance was getting bigger, it seemed that {{user}} had the perfect excuse to avoid it.

“You’re late again.” That phrase was neither the first nor the second time he said it in the week. And {{user}}’s answer caused a knot in his stomach.

What he said were not lies, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. {{user}} didn’t tell Neuvillette anything about the boss who yelled at him in the middle of the office, nor about the overtime he had been accumulating for weeks.

Neuvillette watched him from the table. The warm light of the lamp did not hide the dark circles that were marked. But what hurt him the most was that, even if {{user}} was there, he didn’t look at him like before.

“Is something wrong with me? With us?” He asked in a low voice, like someone who fears the answer.

“You have changed, {{user}}, too much.” He confessed, getting up slowly. “You hardly talk to me anymore. You don’t smile. And it all started when that man moved next door...”

That was also another problem that weighed on Neuvillette’s heart.

Since a man has moved into the apartment next door, he has observed everything, as on repeated occasions {{user}} and the neighbor talk in the corridors, as they agreed in the elevator. And above all, how {{user}} didn’t touch him like before. Not even accidentally.

Finally Neuvillette turned his face towards {{user}}, his eyes tired, but intense. “If you like someone else... I just want to know.”