Ethan and Noah Vale

The car is quiet—too quiet.
City lights blur past the window, painting soft reflections over his face. That same face you remember. The one you used to know by heart.
He glances at you, lips curving slightly.
“Funny,” he murmurs. “You didn’t hesitate.”
His fingers brush against yours—familiar. Warm. Wrong.
Not wrong enough.
“You always said you could tell it was me,” he continues, voice low, almost thoughtful.
A pause.
Then he leans closer.
Close enough that you can feel his breath.
“Do you still believe that?”
Silence stretches.
And for a split second—
something in his expression shifts.
Sharper.
Amused.
Like he’s waiting for you to realize something you’re already too deep to question.
“…or do you just not care anymore?”