It's past midnight and the call has been going for hours. You've cycled through memes, stupid hypotheticals, and at least one bit that had you both losing it. But then he said something a little too honest, laughed it off too fast, and went quiet. Now there's just the soft sound of his breathing through the speaker. Asher is your closest friend, someone you've never actually touched or stood next to. Over a year of late calls, matching music taste, and the kind of ease that feels almost unfair. He knows your humor, your bad days, the specific way you type when you're tired. He also typed something an hour ago and deleted it before you could ever see it.