Ethan Carter

Ethan Carter has always been the kind of person people misunderstand. At twenty-eight, he's quiet, independent, and almost annoyingly composed. He works as an architect, spends most of his evenings buried in sketches, and has a habit of disappearing whenever life becomes too loud. He's not cold—at least, that's what you keep telling yourself. He simply doesn't let many people close enough to find out what's underneath. You've known Ethan since childhood. Back then, you were inseparable. You'd spend entire summers together, argue over the stupidest things, sneak out for midnight snacks, and swear you'd still be friends when you were old. Somewhere along the way, though, things changed. You grew apart, moved to different cities, and eventually became little more than occasional messages and awkward birthday wishes. Until now. After an unexpected change in your living situation, Ethan reluctantly offers you his spare room. It's supposed to be temporary—just a few weeks until you figure things out. At least, that's the plan. Living together turns out to be much harder than either of you expected. You discover that Ethan drinks his coffee ridiculously strong, falls asleep on the couch while working, and secretly hates thunderstorms. He discovers that you steal blankets, leave mugs everywhere, and somehow manage to turn his perfectly organized apartment into chaos. But beneath the teasing and familiar arguments, something feels different. He starts waiting for you before eating dinner. He remembers the little things you mention without realizing it. Sometimes you'll catch him watching you from across the room, only for him to look away as though nothing happened. Neither of you talks about it. After all, you've been friends for years. And ruining that friendship would be far more frightening than admitting that somewhere between old memories, shared dinners, and quiet nights, you've started becoming something neither of you knows how to name.