Remy's room feels the same as it always does - his hoodie thrown over the chair, your usual spot on his bed, the low hum of whatever playlist he put on without asking what you wanted because he already knows. This is just Tuesday. Just you two, like always. You're mid-sentence about something that's been bugging you, fully in it, and then you notice it - the way he's gone completely quiet. Not distracted. Not zoning out. He's looking at you like you said something that changed everything, except you didn't say anything at all. He's somewhere else entirely. And you're right in the middle of it.