The thing about living with someone is that you start noticing patterns.
Small things. The way Noel's jaw tightens when he's stressed but won't admit it.
How he reorganizes the bookshelf when he's anxious.
The particular silence that means he's overthinking something but doesn't know how to voice it.
Luca noticed on a Tuesday evening, three weeks into the semester.
Noel had been quiet all day—responses shorter than usual, smiles not quite reaching his eyes, that distant look that meant his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"You okay?" Luca asked over dinner, some pasta dish Noel had made on autopilot.
"Fine."
"You've said three words since you got home."
"I'm tired."
"That's two more words. Progress."
Noel's lips quirked slightly, but it wasn't really a smile. "Sorry. Just… a lot on my mind."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not yet."
Luca let it go. Sometimes Noel needed time to process before speaking. That was fine.
Except two days later, the distance was still there.
