Celix's POV :
He couldn't quite remember when sleep had claimed him. The details of the night before were a haze blurred edges of half-finished thoughts and feelings he'd rather not revisit. All he knew was that when his eyes finally opened, the harsh sunlight had already shifted from its golden peak to a dull afternoon glow. The digital clock on his nightstand blinked a lazy 3:00 PM.
Celix groaned quietly and sat up, the weight of lethargy pressing down on his shoulders. The air in the room was thick, heavy, like it hadn't moved in hours much like him. His limbs felt stiff, his mind dull, wrapped in the fog of a sleep that hadn't been peaceful.
He pushed himself off the bed and trudged toward the bathroom. The cold tiles under his feet were a jolt back to reality. As the water cascaded down his back in the shower, he stood still, letting the stream wash over him, hoping it could cleanse not just his body but the strange emptiness clinging to his chest.
By the time he stepped out, towel draped over his shoulders, he heard the faint shuffle of footsteps and the gentle thud of bags being set down. He didn't need to guess. He already knew who it was.
Sure enough, as he walked into the living room, he saw Maxim and Ren entering with takeaway boxes in hand. They were talking softly between themselves, their voices low and familiar. There was no need for surprise he had expected them. He always knew they'd come around, especially after a day like yesterday.
Maxim looked up, catching sight of Celix first. "Celix, we brought lunch," he said, his tone casual but carrying the warmth of care. "Come on, let's eat together today."
Celix didn't respond. He just stood there for a second, looking at them with unreadable eyes. Then, without a word, he walked toward the dining area.
Ren, who was already unpacking the food, glanced up briefly. He didn't comment on Celix's silence. He never did. Instead, he quietly continued setting everything up placing containers of rice, curry, grilled vegetables, and bread onto the table like he'd done it a hundred times before.
Celix felt a dull ache in his stomach. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until now. His body moved on instinct. He pulled out a chair and sat down, the legs scraping lightly against the floor. He didn't say a word, didn't make eye contact, just picked up his spoon and began to eat.
Maxim gave a soft smile, a mix of amusement and concern. He didn't push for conversation either. Sometimes, silence was the only language Celix spoke.
The three of them ate together in quiet harmony. No forced words, no exaggerated attempts to fill the silence just the occasional clink of cutlery and the familiar comfort of shared presence. Celix appreciated that about them. They didn't demand pieces of him he couldn't give.
After the meal, the mood in the room shifted to something lighter. Full stomachs and a shared comfort zone had a way of easing things, even if just a little. They migrated to the couch, each with their phones in hand, scrolling mindlessly through feeds and messages. Celix leaned back, his head resting against the cushion, eyes half-closed but awake.
The minutes ticked by in a kind of lazy peace. Outside, the sun had started to dip lower in the sky, painting the windows with hues of soft amber.
Then, at 4:20 PM, Maxim broke the stillness.
"There's a party at the beach this evening," he said, voice laced with a bit of enthusiasm. "Want to go?"
Ren looked up from his phone and nodded. "Yeah, let's go. It'll be fun if we all go together. Might even lift the mood a bit."
Celix didn't answer.
He heard them of course he did. But something inside him just couldn't summon the energy to respond. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, necessarily. It was more like... the world felt distant, muffled, like someone had pressed cotton into his ears and fog over his thoughts.
He kept his gaze on the phone screen, even though he wasn't really looking at anything.
Maxim and Ren exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. They knew by now that pushing Celix never worked. He came around when he was ready or didn't at all.
The silence returned, gentle but weighty.
Celix knew he was being distant, and maybe even ungrateful. But he couldn't help it. Something inside him felt disconnected, as though part of him had drifted away and left the rest behind to pretend. There were days when he could fake it smile, nod, play along and days when he couldn't. Today was one of the latter.
Still, there was a strange comfort in knowing they were there anyway. Not demanding, not judging just there. Present in their own way, offering him space without abandonment.
That, in itself, was enough for now.