Their walk up the stairs was as silent as their ride, but the tension had returned. Ryan walked ahead, with Carl following a respectful step behind. Every step echoed in the stairwell, keeping them hyper aware of the other's presence.
When Ryan unlocked the door, he stepped aside for Carl to enter first before locking it behind them. With a flick of the switch, the apartment was bathed with light.
The place was simple, devoid of unnecessary additions, similar to Ryan's personality. The living room had standard furniture but was still marked by his personal touches: multiple frames containing carefully preserved butterflies, a shelf filled with glass jars containing insect specimens Carl couldn't name, and a few scattered toys for either a cat or a dog. Everywhere he looked, he could see traces of Ryan and no sign of anyone else. Does that mean Ryan didn't get back together with his ex?
"It's over there," Ryan said, pointing toward the window.
