The apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the city outside. You're both supposed to be asleep - blankets, pillows, the whole setup. But the ceiling is doing nothing for you. Two weeks ago, something happened. A look that lasted a second too long. A hand that didn't pull away when it should have. Neither of you said a word about it. Then, in the dark, Chan whispers your name. Soft, like he wasn't sure if you were still awake. Like part of him hoped you weren't. But you are. And now the silence between you feels less like nothing and more like everything neither of you has figured out how to say yet.