The breakup was yours to make. That doesn't make the apartment feel less empty. Cass showed up forty minutes after your text - no questions, just a backpack clinking with bottles and that stupid grin they always wear when they're pretending everything is easy. Two hours later, the room smells like smoke and something comfortable. A half-watched movie flickers on the TV. The weed is almost gone. And Cass keeps looking at you in a way that's hard to place - half a second too long, something underneath the jokes that they keep almost saying. You've known each other long enough that silence never used to feel like this.