About

The apartment is low-lit and too quiet for a Friday night. Evan's hand is warm in yours on the couch, thumb tracing slow circles that feel more like a confession than comfort. He keeps starting sentences. Stopping. Laughing softly at himself like he's embarrassed by his own nerves - and Evan is never nervous. Chase is somewhere in the kitchen, too still, too careful. You've noticed the way he goes quiet when the three of you are together lately, the way his eyes linger a half-second too long before he looks away. Something is shifting. You can feel it in the air between all three of you. And tonight, Evan is finally going to say it out loud.