The sound wasn't loud at first. Just a faint thud, like a misplaced shoe dropping against wood. But it was enough to catch my attention.
I stepped out onto the hallway, barefoot, a lit cigarette between my fingers. The air was still. The kind that felt padded with humidity, heavy like silence before a downpour.
The noise was coming from Ken's apartment.
Laughter.
Not the stiff, polite kind. The easy kind. The kind that belonged in shared memories and inside jokes, between people who didn't need to explain themselves.
I took one step forward and leaned on the railing. I didn't have to peek in. The door was slightly open. Light spilled out in a soft rectangle, and through it, I could see four silhouettes.
Ken, seated.
A girl with long dark hair curled on the couch next to him.
Two other guys were standing by the counter, one of them tossing popcorn into the other's mouth like they were kids again.
I took a long drag from my cigarette.
And just like that, it all started to piece together in my head.
She wasn't just some friend.
The way her hand landed on Ken's shoulder without thinking. The way he didn't flinch when she leaned into him mid-laugh. The spark in her eyes, the softness in his smile. Familiarity. Unwritten language. Something old.
My jaw clenched.
Not out of jealousy, at least not the kind i was used to. It was something else.
Something dull and deep, like watching someone enjoy a warmth you didn't even realize you were missing until now.
Then she noticed me.
The girl.
She turned toward the doorway, her lips curling into a grin, surprised but not shy.
She waved.
"Is that Cassandra from NOVA5?"
The words dropped casually, like she wasn't sure if it was me or a doppelgänger with the same haircut and resting bitch face.
I didn't say anything.
I didn't even blink.
I dropped my cigarette and stepped on it.
Then i turned around and went back inside.
I didn't slam the door, didn't pace or scream or cry.
I just stood there for a moment in the middle of my apartment, staring at nothing, wondering what the hell i was even expecting.
The lights from Ken's apartment poured across the hallway and into mine like it was mocking me. Like it was saying you don't belong here, not with them.
I closed my curtains.
Night passed slowly.
I didn't eat. I didn't move much either.
I lay on the couch with the lights off, phone face-down, TV on mute.
Just white noise.
Just static.
I didn't know what i was even trying to feel anymore.
But then, I heard it again.
The soft sound of footsteps.
Not four people this time.
Just two.
I slid to the edge of my couch and pulled the curtain just a bit.
It was Ken and the girl.
They stepped out of his apartment. The hallway lights caught on her hair. Her voice was quiet now almost serious.
His hands were in his pockets, and he kept looking straight ahead.
I stayed hidden.
And then i heard her say it.
"I still love you."
Just like that.
Just those four words.
No hesitation. No drama. Like it was simple. Like saying I'll see you tomorrow.
I could barely see Ken's face from where i stood, but i noticed the shift in his shoulders.
A small tension.
The kind you only notice when someone's trying to hide that they're affected.
But he didn't say anything back.
He walked her down the hallway, toward the stairs. His pace was steady. Not rushed.
But not soft either.
That's when it hit me.
They're not old friends.
They're old lovers.
-
The knock was gentle. Almost polite. As if he knew he shouldn't be here, but still came anyway.
I didn't move.
I could see his shadow from the slit under the door. I knew it was him.
But i didn't open it.
Not because i didn't want to, but because i was scared i actually would.
My fingers were curled into the edge of the bed. One leg folded under me, the other dangling. The cigarette in my hand burned quietly. I wasn't even smoking it anymore, just holding it, like i needed to hold on to something.
I heard it.
The soft turn of the doorknob.
Then footsteps.
He didn't call my name. He didn't say anything. Just walked straight into my apartment like he had every right to.
Which technically he didn't.
But i didn't stop him either.
I stayed still.
Just watched the door to my bedroom creak open.
Heard it.
And i knew he'd see me there.
Sitting on the edge of my bed.
Hair messy.
Eyes glazed.
Lips dry from too much silence.
When he stepped inside, he paused.
I didn't look up right away.
But i could feel it his confusion. His hesitation.
Then the bed dipped beside me.
No words. Not even a sigh.
He just sat there.
And something about the silence felt more dangerous than anything he could've said.
My hand twitched. The cigarette now cold between my fingers. I crushed it into the ashtray without looking.
Still, he said nothing.
My throat was tight.
Not with tears.
Not sadness.
Just heat. Thick, restless heat crawling under my skin.
I turned to him.
He was staring at the floor. Arms resting on his knees. Shoulders slouched the way people slouch when they're too tired to pretend.
There was something in his eyes—
Guilt?
No.
Something closer to regret but not quite.
I leaned in.
I didn't ask if he wanted it.
I didn't care if he did.
Something in me wanted to taste something reckless tonight. Something i could blame on impulse. Something i could pretend wasn't real in the morning.
So i kissed him.
No preamble. No permission.
I just kissed him.
His lips were warm. Still a little dry.
He froze.
Didn't kiss me back.
Didn't pull away either.
I lingered there for a second longer, eyes closed, heart stubborn. Almost waiting. Almost hoping.
But he didn't move.
So i pulled back.
And looked at him.
Still no words.
Still no reaction.
He just stared at me, like i was this walking contradiction he couldn't solve.
Like he didn't know what to do with me.
Like he wasn't expecting it, but wasn't surprised either.
I waited for him to speak.
For him to ask me why.
But he didn't.
He just stood.
Softly, like he didn't want to wake something sleeping.
And without looking at me again, he muttered, "I'll head back."
Then he walked out.
The door clicked behind him.
And i was left with the taste of something dangerous in my mouth.
I stayed there.
Sitting. Staring. Breathing.
Trying to pretend it didn't matter.
But it did.
Of course it did.
Because i never kiss anyone first.
I never want anyone first.
And yet here i was.
Stupid.
Embarrassed.
And worst of all, still craving.