The conversation drifted after that; it wasn't that the tournament ended, but it got light-hearted.
Aarti stood to pour juice for everyone, moving around the table with ease, filling glasses without being asked. Mira leaned her chin into her hands, listening to Graham talk about something mundane like work, travel and his complaints about being a commander. Nothing great but nothing heavy.
Normal in a way for a man as great as him.
Kieran laughed at something Graham said, an unguarded sound that startled Roy for a second. It wasn't the sharp, sarcastic laugh he used with friends. It was lighter. Familiar. Like muscle memory.
Aarti caught it and smiled. "See?" she said. "You do remember how to relax."
Kieran groaned in response. "I am always relaxed."
Mira giggled. "He was always like that."
Roy watched them. Noticed a lot in the little bit of time he spent here.
The way Mira leaned into Aarti's side without thinking. The way Aarti rested her hand briefly on Graham's shoulder as she passed, grounding him there. The way Kieran didn't stiffen when Graham nudged him with an elbow, teasing him about something his sister told him that happened years ago.
None of it was loud. None of it was dramatic. It was just… genuine closeness.
Roy felt like he was watching something through glass. Again.
It wasn't that Roy was shut out; he was invited even. They spoke to him. Asked him things. Included him. Aarti slid a second helping onto his plate without asking. Mira showed him a photo on her phone. Kieran nudged his knee under the table when he zoned out.
He responded when spoken to. Smiled when expected. Nodded at the right times.
But inside, there was a delay. Like the warmth reached him a second too late.
He felt it and understood it but he couldn't step into it and say this was his.
Kieran leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. "You know," he said, "this is actually… nice."
Aarti raised an eyebrow. "Actually?"
"Yeah, yeah, I really enjoyed it."
Mira beamed. "See? I told you we should do this more."
Graham hummed in agreement. "Moments like this don't happen often."
Roy's fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table.
Moments like this.
They all nodded, as if the thought belonged to everyone equally.
Roy wondered if they knew how fragile this felt to him. Not because it would break but because it felt borrowed. Temporary. Like sitting in someone else's living room and being careful not to touch anything.
Kieran glanced at him. "Right?"
Roy blinked, pulled back into the present. "Huh?"
"You agree, don't you?" Kieran said. "That this is nice."
Roy hesitated for just a fraction too long to notice.
"…Yeah," he said finally. "It was."
And it was true. That was the worst part.
They smiled, satisfied, and the conversation rolled on without him. No one noticed the way Roy's gaze drifted back to the table. To the plates. To the crumbs and water rings and faint scratches in the wood.
Proof that something existed here. Proof that people stayed. He swallowed, chest tight, and leaned back in his chair.
The warmth didn't hurt.
But it didn't quite belong to him either. They didn't linger after that.
It wasn't awkward exactly. Just… complete. Like the conversation had reached a place where pushing further would only cheapen it. Plates were stacked in the sink, and leftovers were packed away with practised efficiency. Aarti scolded Graham lightly for not helping enough, Mira protested that she had helped even though she mostly just hovered, and Kieran moved around the apartment like someone easing back into a rhythm he'd grown up with.
Roy stayed quiet.
Eventually, jackets were grabbed. Shoes were slipped on. The door opened, letting winter air crawl in along the floor.
Mira hugged Kieran first, quick and tight. "Don't forget to text," she said.
"I won't," Kieran replied, rolling his eyes but smiling anyway.
Aarti pulled him into a longer embrace, muttering something under her breath that Roy didn't catch. Graham was last. He clapped a hand on Kieran's shoulder, firm and grounding.
"Take care of yourself," Graham said.
Kieran nodded. "You too."
Then Graham's gaze shifted, just briefly, to Roy.
It wasn't intrusive. It wasn't judgemental.
It was knowing.
"Good night, Roy," he said.
Roy hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Night."
Both of the girls turn to wave goodbye to Roy. Roy nodded and waved in response too.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
For a second, the apartment felt larger again. Quieter. It was like the walls had retreated to their original positions now that the warmth had left.
Kieran exhaled, long and slow, then laughed under his breath. "Well. That went… better than expected."
Roy nodded. "Yeah."
They stood there for a moment, neither of them moving.
Kieran glanced at him. "You okay?"
Roy shrugged. "I think so."
That was good enough, apparently. Kieran didn't push. He never did, not when it mattered.
"I'll walk you out," Kieran said, grabbing his coat.
Roy didn't argue.
The hallway outside was dim and smelt faintly of dust and old paint. Their footsteps echoed as they headed down the stairs, the sound familiar from a hundred other nights that hadn't felt like this one.
Outside, the cold bit immediately.
Kieran shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched. "Sorry about… all of that," he said. "The ambush."
Roy huffed quietly. "I figured."
"Yeah. You always do."voices, andvoices, the low, constant noise of things continuing whether anyone paid attention or not.
Kieran stopped walking.
"So," he said, not looking at Roy, "same time tomorrow?"
Roy blinked. "Tomorrow?"
"Yeah. We were thinking of doing this again sometime. You don't…" Kieran hesitated, then added quickly, "...you don't have to. I mean, no pressure, man."
Roy stared at him for a moment.
Kieran finally looked over, uncertain now. "What?"
"…Nothing," Roy said. "Just, yeah. Maybe."
Kieran's face lit up before he could stop it. "Sure. Cool."
There it was again.
That look. Like he belonged somewhere.
Roy felt something warm twist in his chest.
They stood there a second longer, then Kieran nodded toward the opposite direction. "Text me when you get back, yeah?"
"Sure," Roy said.
Kieran turned and walked away, shoulders relaxing with every step, until he disappeared down the street toward somewhere familiar.
Roy stayed where he was.
When he finally started walking, it was alone.
The streets were quieter this way. Fewer lights. Fewer windows glowing with life behind them. His breath fogged in front of him, dissipating almost as soon as it formed.
It makes me happy to see that Kieran has a place to go, a family to go home to.
It really does.
When he smiles like that, like he belongs somewhere. It feels warm and reassuring. Like, at least one of us made it out okay.
But… what about me?
The thought slipped in uninvited.
I tell myself I shouldn't think that way. That his happiness doesn't take anything away from mine. And yet, the thought creeps in anyway, quiet and unwelcome, settling heavy in my chest.
Is it wrong of me to… feel jealous?
I don't want to take anything from him. I don't want his family, his life, or his people.
I just… I want something too.
Roy slowed as he reached his building. The lights in the stairwell flickered faintly, like they might give up at any moment.
Is it wrong for me to want what he has?
To want a door that opens to familiar voices, to warmth that isn't borrowed, to a place where my presence is expected instead of tolerated?
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
All I have to go home to is a shabby apartment that isn't even mine to claim. Peeling paint. Thin walls. Silence that greets me like it knows I'll be alone again. A place I sleep in and not a place I belong to.
The door shut behind him.
I tell myself it's enough. That I should be grateful I have a roof at all.
Roy leaned back against the door, staring at the window that has a great view of the night sky.
But some nights, like tonight, when I turn the key and step inside, I can't help wondering what it would feel like to go home to someone who's waiting for me.
He closed his eyes. And I hate myself just a little for wanting that too.
For a fleeting moment, the warmth from earlier lingered. Then, slowly, it faded.
Still…
…this was kind of nice.