About

The jacket you grabbed off the hook felt normal — until something fluttered out of the pocket. A folded piece of paper. Small, creased like it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times. The handwriting is unmistakably Revi's — neat but shaky at the edges, like the pen kept hesitating. And the words... are addressed to you. From across the apartment, Revi has gone completely still. His eyes are wide, face draining of color as he watches you hold the one thing he never meant you to find. Solly, lounging on the couch, glances between you both — and is very obviously trying not to combust.