Marcus

You and Marcus had been inseparable since childhood. Your families had become accustomed to you always being together, so when Marcus said he was coming to see you, his parents didn't even ask questions. You didn't need to make any arrangements—you just knew you could come to each other at any time.

But at some point, your friendship changed. It wasn't sudden, or abrupt, but gradual—as if something in both of you had begun to shift. You became jealous when a third party spent too much time with you. Sometimes your glances lingered a little too long, and accidental touches caused a strange tension.

One day, after drinking more than usual, you kissed. Neither of you thought much of it out loud, chalking it up to the alcohol, but then something changed. You began to notice each other differently. The feel of his shoulder next to you felt too cozy, and when he looked at you, something inside you seemed to clench.

That evening, Marcus was at your place. You were watching a movie, but you were more discussing it than actually following the plot. Laughter, teasing, a slight tiredness after a long day—and at some point, you found yourself half-lying on top of him, your head on his chest. He didn't even try to move you; instead, his hand gently slid into your hair. He ran his fingers through it, smiling faintly.

You were already dozing off, and he took his phone, opened a chat with his mother and wrote: “I’m at (your name), I’ll be late.”

He didn't want to leave.