"So what happened? Why did you take so long?"
The traffic lights ahead cast a red glow across the dashboard.
Isaac realised he had been staring into the side mirror a second too long and forced his eyes forward.
"Sorry, I had to deal with something," he said, leaning back into his seat.
"Oh?" Aria shot him a sideways glance, fingers loosely hooked over the steering wheel. "What's up?"
"Nothing. Just a strange girl I met."
"Ohoh-!"
Her eyes lit up immediately, curiosity replacing the lazy boredom she'd had all morning.
"Did you get another confession?"
She said it half-teasing, half-genuinely interested, like she was waiting for a funny story.
Isaac rolled his eyes and jerked his chin toward the lights.
"Just drive," he muttered.
The light flipped to green, and Aria clicked her tongue but did as he said, pressing her foot down and guiding the car back into the flow of traffic.
For a few moments, the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the faint music coming from the radio.
Then, without looking away from the road, she spoke again.
"You know," she said slowly, "if you want to, you can date someone. You don't need to worry about me."
Her tone was casual enough, but Isaac picked up the tiny shift, the way she gripped the wheel a little tighter, the way her shoulders squared just slightly.
"Nah, I'm fine. Not interested."
It wasn't a reflexive dismissal.
It was simply the truth.
He had already had his fill of dating before they moved in together.
Every experience had been the same in a way that made him tired just thinking about it, awkward first dates where conversation died after ten minutes, relationships that felt more like maintaining an image than actually being close to someone, shallow flings that left him feeling emptier afterwards than he had before.
Compared to the easy companionship he had with Aria, the idea of romance felt exhausting.
Drama, expectations, miscommunications, he had seen it all, up close, in his own life and in other people's.
Sharing a space with Aria, cooking together, watching stupid shows on her laptop at 2 am, arguing about which detergent to buy, that felt more real than any of the dates he had been on.
"Well… If you ever find someone, you can tell me, and we can stop… whatever this is," Aria said, her voice dropping slightly.
Her words trailed off, as if she wasn't quite sure how to label it.
Isaac looked at her profile, eyes on the road, jaw set just a little too tight, the corners of her mouth pulled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
He knew what she meant.
The rumours.
The way they lived together.
The unspoken assumption from everyone around them that they were a couple.
The way they sometimes… blurred lines.
"I doubt that'll happen," he said, honest and blunt. "I prefer this."
As he spoke, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her thigh.
Not high, not possessive, just resting there, fingers relaxed against the fabric of her jeans.
"Not while I'm driving…" she teased, swatting his hand away.
Her tone was playful again, a faint grin tugging at her lips as she side-eyed him.
"Tragic," he said dryly, pulling his hand back and resting his elbow against the window instead.
They fell into a familiar, comfortable silence.
It was the kind of easy intimacy they shared.
No labels.
No declarations.
No dramatic confessions.
Just years of shared space and habits, of knowing each other's moods by the way they walked into a room.
At first, they had been purely friends.
When they had moved in together, the arrangement had been straightforward: two people in need of stability who could trust each other with rent, chores, and basic decency.
Isaac needed a place where the ground didn't feel like it could fall out from under him at any second.
Aria needed someone reliable in a life where her family's expectations weighed too heavily.
They cooked together, split the bills, took turns doing laundry when they remembered, and fought over nothing in particular, then made up without talking about it.
They were just friends.
But over time, living together had led to a different dynamic.
Maybe it was inevitable.
A man and a woman sharing an apartment, getting used to the sight of each other half-asleep in the kitchen or sprawling on the couch.
People around them started making assumptions, pinning labels on them that they never asked for.
And sometimes, labels had a way of leaking into reality.
Isaac remembered their sophomore year, the night of a campus party.
He remembered the music being too loud, the lights too bright, the cheap alcohol too sweet.
He had gone because Aria insisted, dragging him in with the promise of free drinks and "good vibes."
They had both drunk more than they should have.
Laughter had spilt into reckless territory, everything blurry at the edges.
The taxi home had been a mess of half-stumbled words and stupid jokes.
And then, in his small bedroom of their apartment, something had happened between them.
Entirely unplanned.
Not unwelcome.
It wasn't romantic.
Neither of them woke up the next day and suddenly saw the other in a different light.
There were no confessions, no grand speeches, no change in how they addressed one another.
It was a product of proximity, trust, and alcohol-softened boundaries.
An impulsive choice that, somehow, didn't break anything between them.
If anything, it made things clearer.
They understood that whatever existed between them didn't need to be wrapped in romantic language.
The occasional repeat of that night happened, once in a while, and never with dramatics, but their friendship never shifted at its core.
No "what are we?" conversations.
No ultimatums.
No jealousy.
They were still Isaac and Aria.
Friends first.
Always.
He rested his head against the headrest and watched the scenery flick by outside.
The city rolled past in a blur of crosswalks, signs, and buildings he had seen a thousand times.
"Hey," he said after a moment, his voice quieter. "I'll make your favourite tonight."
"Mm?"
Aria glanced at him briefly, one hand still on the wheel, the other fiddling with the air conditioning dial.
"Dinner," he clarified, lips twitching. "I'll make your favourite."
Her expression brightened almost instantly.
"Really? You mean the meatball pasta?" she asked.
"That or I'll just eat it all myself and leave you with instant noodles," he replied.
"You wouldn't dare."
"I might."
"Rude."
He let out a small laugh.
Already, his mind was shifting away from the strange girl behind the building, from the way she had grabbed his hand, from the intensity in her eyes.
He tucked the unease away, burying it under the familiar comfort of thinking about ingredients and timing and whether they had enough garlic at home.
For now, that felt easier.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
Aria POV
It had been a few weeks since Isaac had mentioned being confessed to, and life had mostly continued as usual.
Lectures, part-time shifts, late dinners at home, stupid arguments about whose turn it was to take the trash out, everything moved forward in the same messy, comfortable rhythm.
Right up until today.
"Ugh…" Aria groaned, pressing a hand against her lower abdomen as she sank down onto the bench outside the lecture hall.
The corridor wasn't crowded yet; students were only just starting to trickle in for the next class.
The bench was cold even through her jeans, and the chill against her back as she leaned against the wall made her shiver.
"Want me to carry you?" Isaac asked.
He crouched beside her, bag hanging off one shoulder, looking entirely too amused considering she felt like her insides were trying to strangle themselves.
His smirk made it clear he wasn't serious.
"It's fine…" she muttered, shooting him a glare.
Even so, a faint smile tugged at her lips despite the discomfort.
He laughed and raised both hands in mock surrender.
"I'm just trying to help," he said. "Go wait in the lecture hall, I'll bring you some coffee."
"That does sound nice…" she admitted.
"Thought so." He winked at her, straightening up. "Don't die before I come back."
"I make no promises," she grumbled, but she watched him walk away toward the campus café, his pace unhurried and familiar.
Once he disappeared around the corner, the hallway felt a little more hollow.
Aria pushed herself to her feet with a quiet groan, tugging her bag higher on her shoulder.
Each step sent a small ache through her abdomen, the dull, dragging kind of pain that made everything feel heavier.
'It's all his fault… but it's even more annoying that I can't even get mad at him…' she thought with a sigh.
She headed toward the lecture hall door.
That was when she noticed her.
A girl was standing off to the side, right near the entrance, close enough that anyone going in would have to walk past her.
She wasn't casually leaning or scrolling through her phone like most students waiting outside.
She was simply… standing.
Stiffly.
Her shoulders were drawn up, posture tight, and there was a sharp, jittery tension about her that made Aria's skin prickle even before she saw the girl's face.
Bandages wrapped around both wrists, the white stark against her skin.
Her eyes were wide, ringed with the faint shadow of sleeplessness, and the moment she noticed Aria, her gaze snapped up, locking onto her with a focus that felt almost physical.
Aria slowed her steps.
The girl's lips pulled back slightly, and when she spoke, her voice came out as a low, shaky hiss.
"You–!"
Aria stopped, brows knitting.
"…Huh?"
"It's all because of you!" the girl spat, voice tight with anger.
Aria blinked once.
Her body tensed instinctively, not out of fear, but out of the need to stay grounded.
She straightened her posture, letting her hand fall away from her abdomen, and kept her tone calm.
"What are you on about?" she asked.
She had never seen this girl before in her life.
She knew most of the people who took the same courses as she did, and, through random encounters, she had a good memory for those who might cause trouble.
This girl wasn't one of them.
The stranger's lips trembled as she pushed the words out.
"It's your fault that Isaac won't look at me," she said, eyes burning with resentment. "He should be mine, he should be looking at me, only me!"
Aria's fingers twitched.
For a split second, she thought she had misheard.
Then she let out a slow breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, mimicking the motion she had picked up from Isaac whenever he was annoyed.
'…So this is the girl Isaac mentioned,' she thought.
Her expression didn't change, but a small piece of the earlier conversation slotted into place.
The "strange girl" he had brushed off, the one who wanted to "talk."
Of course.
"How is it my fault?" Aria asked, dropping her hand back to her side. "He's an adult, he can make his own choices. Isn't it your own fault for jumping at him like that?"
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't snap.
She simply stated it plainly, watching the girl's reaction closely.
The girl's hands trembled harder.
"No, no, no!"
Her voice rose in pitch, shaking with something that hovered between desperation and obsession.
"It's your fault! You're forcing him to stay with you. I already know that you live together."
Aria scoffed, unable to help it.
"So what? So does half the campus. Isaac's just a bit dense."
Everyone knew they lived together.
It wasn't some big secret.
They didn't go around announcing it, but they also didn't hide it.
People had been making assumptions about them since first year.
Knowing they shared an apartment wasn't exactly special information.
"Don't insult him!" the girl snapped, eyes narrowing. "Do they know that you cover his part of the rent? That you're using that to keep him with you?"
The words hit a little harder.
Aria felt heat flare in her chest, hot and sharp, mixing with the dull ache already twisting in her abdomen.
She inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
It was more effort than she expected to keep her tone level.
"You're… really unstable, huh?"
The words slipped out before she could stop them, edged with an exasperation she normally kept hidden.
She stepped past the girl, shoulder brushing the air near her, and reached for the lecture hall door.
Behind her, the girl's voice dropped to a low murmur.
"If only you weren't in the way…"
The words were quiet, but Aria heard them clearly.
Her hand froze on the door handle.
A chill crawled up her spine, momentarily drowning out the physical pain in her abdomen.
Her instinct screamed to turn around, to say something sharp enough to cut through whatever this girl was building in her mind.
But she didn't.
She stood there for a second, feeling the other girl's gaze burning into her back.
Then she pushed the door open and walked in without responding.
'Fucking crazy,' she thought.
That was all she let herself think.
Because anything more than that might mean admitting that the threat in those words didn't feel as empty as she wanted it to be.
————「❤︎」————