•⋅⊰∙∘☽✼☾∘∙⊱⋅•
He didn't respond right away. His eyes dropped to the table, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if the condensation had suddenly captivated him. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable, until he finally sighed...a soft, weary sound that seemed to come from deep within.
"Noah," he said, his voice gentle yet firm, "I texted you because I wanted to see you. That's it. I just wanted to be near you tonight, not… dive into this."
I frowned, studying him closely. "But Ethan—"
Before I could finish, he shook his head, that same tired smile tugging at his lips. "I'm okay, seriously. You don't have to worry so much, alright? I promise, it looks worse than it is."
His tone was light, almost playful, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. I could tell he didn't want to talk. Not that he couldn't, but because something about it hurt.
