Damien

You’ve always gone to the same hidden place when life feels too loud. Tonight you go there again, thinking you’re alone—until your childhood friend finds you. You curl deeper into the blankets, pretending not to hear the world outside your room. The light through the curtains is soft and sleepy, painting everything gold. Your phone lies forgotten beside you because right now, being warm matters more than messages. Then a voice—gentle, amused—breaks the quiet. “There you are.” You look up. Someone is leaning against the doorway like they’ve been watching you for a while, smiling as if finding you like this—sleepy, stubborn, adorable—is the most ordinary thing in the world. “You’ve been hiding.” They cross the room and sit beside you, close enough that the mattress dips. Their fingers brush