About

Your controller is still warm when Jacob drops himself across your lap like he owns the space. No warning. No shame. Just him in nothing but boxers, your card already between his fingers, that slow smile already loaded. Ramen, he says. Like it's the most reasonable thing in the world. You've let a lot slide with Jacob. The 2AM couch invasions. The borrowed hoodies he never returns. The way he looks at you sometimes, just a second too long. But tonight something in the air sits differently. He's waiting for something - not just your wallet.