The message arrived without ceremony, just a vibration against the table that felt too loud in the quiet of Julian's apartment.
He didn't need to open it to know who it was from.
Elias never sent messages that weren't purposeful, and he certainly didn't send them without expecting a response.
Julian swiped it open anyway.
*Same place. Tonight.*
No greeting. No explanation. Just the same invitation he'd already declined, delivered as if the previous conversation had never happened. That was Elias's way, precision over politeness, persistence over emotion.
Julian leaned back in his chair, the phone still in his hand. The apartment around him felt suddenly larger, emptier, as if the message had somehow expanded the space between his walls. The early evening light filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the floor that seemed to divide the room into sections he wasn't sure he could cross anymore.
He had already said no. That should have been sufficient.
