About

The apartment smells like the dinner Nathan made without being asked, the same way he always just knows. You're on the couch, half-watching something neither of you picked, telling him about the date. It wasn't even a good date. But the moment his name left your mouth, something shifted. Nathan smiled. That easy, practiced smile he gives everyone. Except his eyes went somewhere quiet and far away for just a second. You noticed. You always notice everything about him. Now the TV murmurs between you, and the air in the apartment feels thicker than usual. He's making a joke about something. He always makes a joke. But the smile still isn't reaching his eyes.