The apartment is quiet tonight. Just the low hum of the city outside and the weight of everything left unsaid between you two. Callum hasn't touched his drink. He's watching you the way he always does - steady, unhurried, like he already knows how this ends. For months, something has been building. Little moments. You leaning on his decisions. That one night you said *just tell me what to do* and he went very still. He remembers everything. And tonight, he's done letting it sit. He wants to put a name to what you already are to each other - and he's not asking permission so much as giving you the chance to meet him there.