The table filled slowly.
Not with conversation—but with objects. Elian's laptop, already open and organized into folders. Juni's sketchbook, worn at the edges. A stack of printed articles. Two mugs, one chipped.
They didn't sit close at first.
Elian took the chair by the window, posture straight, eyes focused. Juni settled cross-legged on the floor, back against the couch, materials spread around him in a controlled mess.
They worked like this for an hour without speaking.
The quiet wasn't empty. It carried intent.
Juni glanced up occasionally, grounding himself in the rhythm of Elian's typing—the steady cadence of someone who knew how to break a problem into manageable parts. Elian, in turn, found his focus softened by Juni's presence, the scratch of pencil against paper interrupting his tendency toward over-intensity.
When Elian paused to stretch, Juni noticed immediately.
"You're holding your breath again," Juni said.
Elian exhaled, surprised. "I am?"
"Yeah. You do it when you're trying to be perfect."
Elian leaned back, resting his head against the chair. "Occupational hazard."
Juni smiled faintly and returned to his sketchbook.
Later, Elian slid a page toward him. "Can you look at this? I'm missing something."
Juni scooted closer, scanning the text with care. "You're not missing anything," he said slowly. "You're just assuming the answer has to be elegant."
Elian tilted his head. "It doesn't?"
"Not everything does," Juni replied. "Some things just need to work."
Elian considered that, nodding. "I forget that."
They worked until midnight, the city outside dimming to a low hum. At some point, Juni leaned his head against Elian's knee, unthinking. Elian rested his hand lightly in Juni's hair, absent-minded and gentle.
Neither commented on it.
This—this quiet collaboration—had become their anchor. Not dramatic declarations. Not urgency. Just showing up in the same space and allowing their differences to coexist.
When they finally packed up, Juni yawned and stretched. "Same tomorrow?"
Elian smiled. "Same tomorrow."
As Juni gathered his things, Elian realized something that unsettled him in the best possible way: this wasn't a break from pressure.
It was a structure that held them both.