The apartment felt different when they walked in.
Same walls. Same furniture. Same soft lamp Gabriel always left on when they were out late.
But the air had changed heavier somehow, pressing against Ethan's skin.
He moved to the kitchen. Filled a glass with water. Drank without tasting it.
Gabriel set his keys down quietly. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Ethan—"
"I said no." He set the glass down harder than he meant to. "I just want to stand here for a minute without someone trying to fix it."
Gabriel was quiet. Ethan could feel him watching, that careful steady attention that usually felt like safety. Right now it felt like pressure.
"He didn't do anything wrong," Gabriel said finally. "Falling in love isn't—"
"I know that." Ethan turned. "I know it's not wrong. I know he's allowed. All the rational, logical things you're about to say and I don't want to hear them."
"Then what do you want?"
