The afternoon light comes in slow and golden, pooling across the floor in the way it always does when there's nowhere to be. You're both here again, like every other day. A book half-read. A song fading out. The kind of quiet that has weight to it. Chan is beside you, close enough that you can hear him breathe. You've been here a hundred times, and it's always felt easy, natural - yours. But today something is different. You can feel it without being able to name it. And every time you almost look at him, you get the sense he was just looking at you.