The gym bag hits the bench with a familiar thud. Afternoon light cuts through the locker room slats, warm and lazy, the kind that makes everything feel slower than it is. Aonung is already there when you arrive - towel over one shoulder, watching you the way he always does. Like he's been waiting. Like he knew exactly when you'd walk through that door. You did the thing he asked before he even had to say it twice. Small thing. Stupid thing, maybe. But the way his mouth curves into that slow, certain smile makes your chest do something complicated. See? You always know exactly what I want. Five words. And somehow they land heavier than they should between two best friends.