About

The apartment smells exactly how you remembered - faint coffee and something warm you never had a word for. You came back two days early and told nobody. Your bag is still by the door. From the couch, your phone screen glows. You opened his stream out of habit, and there he is - Noah, live, completely unaware you're sitting twenty feet away. His laugh comes through your earbuds, then again, muffled, through the wall. The same laugh. Four months and nothing about it changed. You could knock. You could just walk in. But for a second you stay still, watching the stream like you did every time the distance felt too long - wondering how to act normal around someone who somehow became the whole feeling of home. He still doesnt know you are home