Noah woke up to the sound of coughing.
Neither loud.
Nor dramatic.
But the kind that tried to stay polite.
He opened his eyes to a ceiling he still didn't recognize as familiar, then to the dim shape of Evan sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, one hand braced against the mattress.
"You're dying," Noah said hoarsely, from yjr floor.
Evan flinched. "Good morning to you too."
Evan glanced back. His eyes were tired. Not sick-tired but worn-tired.
"You snore," he said instead.
Noah sat up. "That's defamation."
"You drool."
"I will arrest you."
"For what?"
"Crimes."
Evan smiled.
He stood up too fast.
The room tilted. Just a little.
Noah noticed.
"You good?"
"Yeah."
Lie.
Noah watched him walk to the kitchen anyway.
Breakfast was burnt toast again. On purpose this time.
Noah leaned against the counter while Evan fumbled with mugs.
"Are you avoiding me?" Noah asked.
Evan froze.
"…I live by myself. It's exhausting enough."
"That's not what I meant."
Silence stretched. Thin. Sharp.
"I don't want you treating me like this," Evan said quietly.
Noah stiffened. "Like what?"
"You watch me breathe."
"That's not—"
"You memorize my pulse."
Noah opened his mouth. Closed it.
Evan turned around slowly. "You don't look at other people like this."
Noah exhaled through his nose. "You're not... other people."
That slipped out too easily.
Evan's fingers tightened around the mug.
"And what am I?"
Noah didn't answer.
Because the truth sat too close to something dangerous.
They stood there with it between them.
Unspoken.
Heavy.
Evan looked away first.
"Forget it."
Noah hated that he let him.
Later, Noah walked Evan to the clinic anyway.
Didn't argue.
Didn't announce it.
Just picked up his jacket and waited by the door like it was obvious.
Evan followed.
On the street, someone laughed too loudly.
A car almost clipped a cyclist.
Life continued, messy and careless.
Evan slowed down.
His hand brushed Noah's.
Not intentional.
Noah didn't pull away.
Neither did Evan.
They walked like that for half a block.
Not holding hands.
Not not holding them.
At the clinic door, Evan stopped.
"You don't have to wait."
Noah shrugged. "I'm bad at leaving."
Evan studied him.
"You're bad at lying too."
Noah smiled faintly. "So are you."
Evan looked away.
Again.
Inside, fluorescent lights hummed.
The world became medical.
Clean.
Cold.
Distant.
Evan sat on the bed while a nurse checked his vitals.
Noah stood in the corner like a shadow that refused to detach.
The nurse glanced between them.
"Boyfriend?"
"No," both said immediately.
"…Friend," Noah added.
The nurse nodded.
She didn't believed him though.
When they left, Evan didn't tease him about it.
Which felt worse.
Outside, Evan finally spoke.
"You don't have to carry me."
Noah answered without thinking. "I know."
Pause.
"…I just do."
Evan looked at him then.
Really looked.
Like he was trying to understand something fragile.
Something he didn't trust.
"Don't," he said quietly.
Noah frowned. "Don't what?"
"Make me a habit."
Noah didn't respond.
Because it was already too late.
That night, when Evan lay awake listening to Noah breathe from the couch, the pressure didn't come.
But sleep didn't either.
Something else sat in his chest.
Not fear.
Not pain.
Something warm.
And terrifying.
Something that made him think:
This is how people get ruined.
And somewhere in the city, another death was being planned with careful hands...
But Evan didn't know that, Noah didn't know that.
And that...for a few fragile hours,
that ignorance was mercy.