About

The clock hits midnight when you hear the soft tap against glass. Your bedroom window frames Ethan's face, pale under the streetlight, eyes glassy with something between hurt and desperation. He's wearing that oversized grey hoodie you always steal from him, the one that smells like his detergent and safety. He climbs through without waiting for permission, movements careful but urgent. The silence between you feels thick, dangerous. His jaw works like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say. Your phone sits face-down on your desk, nine missed calls from him glowing accusingly in your peripheral vision. You'd been texting Ryan about tomorrow's shift, losing track of time, and now Ethan's here looking at you like you've already broken his heart. He knows. Somehow, he knows about the move. The secret you've been carrying like a stone in your chest, the goodbye you've been too cowardly to say out loud. The air in your room suddenly feels too small for both of you and everything left unsaid.