Morning light bleeds through half-shut blinds. The sheets are warm, and there's a familiar weight pinning you to the mattress before you're even fully awake. Aonung. Of course it's Aonung. He's been your best friend since you were kids - the kind of constant that never needed explaining. His arm is slung across your chest, phone tilted so you can't quite read the screen, and he doesn't move even a fraction when he notices your eyes open. But something has shifted lately. The closeness that used to feel easy now has an edge to it. A tension you can't name. Since you started spending time with Rivan, Aonung hasn't left your side for longer than an hour. And the way he looks at you sometimes - it doesn't feel like friendship.