Sunday morning arrived softer than the rest of the week. Pale light filtered through the blinds in narrow stripes, stretching across Terrance's ceiling and down the opposite wall like quiet fingerprints.

  For a few suspended seconds, he lay still beneath the covers, hovering between sleep and waking. The house felt hushed, wrapped in that early hour stillness where even the air seemed to move carefully.

  Then the sounds began.

  The faint creak of the mattress in his father's room. A low moan that rose and fell, voices blurred together through drywall and distance.

  The steady rhythm of the headboard brushing the wall. A soft gasp. The muted thud of the bed shifting against the floor in a repeating cadence.

  Terrance stared at the ceiling.

  The rhythm continued down the hall, intimate and steady.

  Then his phone buzzed against the nightstand.

  The sudden vibration split the quiet, sharp and mechanical. Terrance flinched, pulled fully out of the haze as the house carried on around him.

  He frowned.

  No one called this early except Simone.

  Since he stopped reaching out first, her messages had grown scarce. He assumed she had finally put her pride aside and decided to check on him.

  He rolled over and squinted at the screen.

  It was not Simone. It was Isaiah.

  His heart kicked hard against his ribs, sharp enough to almost hurt.

  Terrance sat up quickly, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He moved to the door and closed it carefully behind him, turning the lock with slow precision as if the click itself carried weight.

  The phone was still ringing.

  He answered before the third ring finished.

  When he spoke, Sicily's voice slid into place with practiced ease.

  "Yay! You're back."

  Isaiah let out a breath on the other end, low and relieved.

  "Man, I missed hearing your voice."

  Terrance leaned back against the door, his eyes drifting shut as the sound of him filled the quiet room.

  "I swear, Sicily, I replayed that voice memo you sent before I left like fifty times. Basic was kicking my ass."

  A smile pulled at Terrance's mouth before he could stop it. His shoulders softened against the wood.

  "Did you really?"

  "Yeah," Isaiah said, and pride warmed every syllable. "I made it through to graduation. Officially done. They're stationing me in Texas. I'm headed to Fort Hood."

  Texas.

  The word felt distant and wide, stretching far beyond the walls of his bedroom.

  "That's amazing," Terrance said quickly, warmth rising in his chest. "I'm proud of you."

  There was a pause that felt less like silence and more like closeness.

  "So how have you been since I've been gone?"

  The question settled gently, but it carried weight.

  Terrance opened his eyes and stared at his reflection in the dark television screen across the room. His own face stared back at him, softer in the morning light, almost unguarded.

  How honest could he afford to be?

  He had grown skilled at bending the truth into something manageable.

  But something about Isaiah's voice made dishonesty feel heavier than usual.

  "It's been a transition," he said at last.

  "Yeah? I noticed you haven't been on social media much."

  Terrance glanced toward the window.

  Between work and the constant awareness of Josh's presence in the house, his days felt crowded even when they were quiet.

  "I moved out of my mom's place."

  That part was true.

  "I'm living with my dad now."

  Another silence, this one sharper.

  "Where at?"

  "Back in Virginia."

  Isaiah let out a low breath. "For real? I was hoping we could have hung out before I left for Texas."

  Relief moved through Terrance so quickly it almost made him lightheaded.

  He had avoided something complicated, but the guilt followed close behind.

  "Yeah," he continued, softening his tone, letting vulnerability slip into it. "It was kind of last minute. I got into it with my mom's fiancé. It was hostile."

  A lie shaped carefully around pieces of truth.

  Isaiah's voice shifted instantly, settling into something protective and steady.

  "I'm glad you did what was best for you."

  Terrance swallowed against the tightness in his throat.

  He slid down the back of his bedroom door until he was sitting on the floor, knees bent, phone pressed close to his ear.

  In a way, leaving had been survival, because staying had begun to feel like disappearing.

  Getting out of his hometown had been the only decision that felt entirely his.

  "How are things with you and your dad? Any father, daughter time?" Isaiah asked.

  Terrance stared at the thin strip of light beneath his door.

  "We haven't talked in over a year," he said carefully. "So it's... a work in progress."

  The words sounded neutral enough. Safe.

  "Oh and his friend lives here too," he added, forcing a note of casualness into his voice. "He's...super strange towards me. Especially when my dad isn't around."

  There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

  Not the distracted kind. The listening kind.

  "What do you mean strange?" Isaiah asked, his voice still calm, but something underneath it had sharpened.

  Terrance traced a faint scratch in the paint near the bottom of the door with his thumb. The wood was cool against his back.

  He focused on that instead of the tightness creeping into his chest.

  "I don't know," he said, attempting a small laugh that did not quite land. "He just hovers sometimes. Asks a lot of questions. Acts overly friendly."

  He swallowed.

  "He looks at me too long."

  "That don't sound strange," Isaiah said finally. "That sounds off."

  Terrance's fingers tightened around the phone.

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  "He's probably just trying to be nice," he replied quickly. "I might be reading too much into it."

  Even as he said it, he knew he was trying to convince himself.

  Isaiah did not rush to agree.

  "Do you trust your gut?" he asked instead.

  Terrance closed his eyes.

  The truth rose up immediately, heavy and undeniable.

  "No," he admitted softly. "I learned not to."

  Another pause, deeper this time.

  "You definitely should Sicily," Isaiah said. "If something feels wrong, it probably is. You ain't crazy for feeling that."

  The words settled somewhere fragile inside Terrance. Usually he was the one giving out the sound advice.

  Now it was being given to him.

  No one had ever said that to him in a way that felt this steady.

  He let his head fall back against the door and stared at the ceiling. The thin stripes of sunlight had shifted slightly, climbing higher along the wall.

  "You're so right," Terrance added, "It's just... energy."

  Isaiah did not miss the hesitation woven through his voice.

  "If you ever feel uncomfortable," he said carefully, "you call me. I don't care what time it is."

  Terrance's throat tightened unexpectedly.

  "You're about to be stationed in Texas," he said, trying to lighten it. "You got bigger things to worry about."

  "You are not a small thing to me," Isaiah replied.

  Terrance felt something inside his chest shift, delicate and terrifying.

  Terrance didn't answer right away.

  For a split second, he forgot to lift his pitch.

  His natural voice hovered there in his throat, low and unguarded, almost rising to meet Isaiah without the careful softness he always wore.

  The silence stretched just a breath too long.

  On the other end, Isaiah waited.

  "Everything okay?" he asked gently.

  Terrance blinked, the moment snapping back into place.

  He remembered who he was supposed to be.

  "You're so sweet," he said lightly, reshaping the sound of himself.

  "If he touch you, let me know and I'll pull up," Isaiah said.

  They both laughed, easing the mood

  "I'm so serious though." The warmth in his tone didn't disappear, but it sharpened.

  "I will keep that in mind." Terrance said gently.

  "You better with your cute self," Isaiah said.

  "Thank you," Terrance replied quietly, his voice softer than he intended.

  Isaiah cleared his throat. "No problem, boo. But hey, I gotta spend some time with my family. They want to take me out before I head to Texas. I'll call you again soon."

  "Okay," Terrance said. "Have fun. Send pics."

  Isaiah laughed, warm and teasing. "I gotchu, boo."

  The line went dead.

  Terrance stood for a moment longer, staring at the black screen, feeling the echo of Isaiah's laughter linger in the air.

  Then he lowered himself slowly onto the edge of the bed.

  "I gotchu, boo," he whispered, testing the word in his mouth as if it might dissolve.

  The words felt fragile, unreal, and sweet all at once.

  A sharp, unforgiving knock hit the door.

  Terrance's smile vanished immediately.

  "Yeah?" he called, his voice catching before he could steady it.

  If they heard, if they even suspected, it would undo everything, and his stomach tightened with a low, twisting weight.

  "It's me," his father said from the other side.

  Terrance unlocked the door.

  His father's head appeared first, just the edges of his face visible in the hallway light. His expression was neutral, casual, but deliberate.

  "I thought I heard a woman in here," he said.

  Terrance's fingers tightened around his phone as if holding it could anchor him.

  "Oh, I was just on the phone," he said.

  "With who?"

  The question was casual, but Terrance could feel the weight behind it. His pulse spiked.

  "A friend," he said, forcing the words out calmly.

  His father studied him for a long beat, longer than necessary.

  At the end of the hallway, Josh leaned against the staircase railing, eyes fixed on him, quiet but present.

  "Josh thought he heard you talking," his father said.

  "Didn't recognize the voice."

  Terrance's throat went dry.

  "Oh," he said, forcing a shrug. "Just a friend from back home."

  Josh's gaze did not move. Something unreadable flickered across it, shifting like a shadow.

  "Alright," his father said finally. "Breakfast is downstairs."

  "I'll be down in a few," Terrance replied, trying to steady his voice.

  They turned and walked away. Josh glanced back once, eyes sharp, before descending the stairs.

  Terrance closed the door slowly.

  His phone buzzed immediately.

  A new message from Isaiah.

  Missing you already.

  Terrance stared at it. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly, as if the screen itself carried heat.

  He typed back: Aw, miss you too.

  From downstairs, laughter drifted faintly up the staircase.

  Terrance swallowed and slid the phone into his pocket.

  He stood, feeling the weight of both messages and the hallway gaze still pressing in on him, and headed down.

  The scent of fried eggs, grits, and toast lingered thick in the air.

  Terrance took his usual seat at the table, careful to move with an ease he did not quite feel.

  His father was already halfway through his plate, eating in steady, mechanical bites.

  Josh sat across from Terrance, one elbow propped on the table, his phone balanced loosely in his hand.

  Every few seconds, he let out a short laugh under his breath at something on the screen.

  "You sleep good?" his father asked without looking up.

  "Yeah," Terrance replied, keeping his tone neutral as he reached for his fork.

  Josh glanced at him, eyes briefly assessing. "You got plans today?"

  "Mostly chillin, I may go check some places out for a little bit."

  His father swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Josh and I are going to hang out with some colleagues later."

  Terrance nodded. "That's fine."

  His phone vibrated softly against his thigh, and the sudden movement sent a quick current through his chest. He slipped it from his pocket beneath the table and angled the screen away before unlocking it.

  Isaiah.

  There were several new pictures.

  The first one made Terrance pause.

  Isaiah stood beside a woman Terrance immediately assumed was his mother. They were shoulder to shoulder, both smiling at the camera in the same effortless way.

  The resemblance was undeniable. The shape of their eyes when they smiled, even the way their cheeks lifted in near perfect symmetry.

  Isaiah's arm was wrapped loosely around her, and she leaned into him with an ease that spoke of closeness.

  Terrance studied the photo longer than he meant to. There was something grounding about it. Something stable.

  The next picture showed Isaiah standing between two young men who had to be his brothers. They were similar in build but carried themselves differently.

  One stood slightly behind the other, expression calm and reserved. The other looked mid joke, mouth open as if caught halfway through teasing.

  Isaiah stood in the center, relaxed, confident, undeniably the most striking of the three. Even through a phone screen, his presence felt brighter.

  Terrance felt a small, private pride bloom in his chest, as if he had any claim to it.

  Then came the selfies.

  Isaiah pulling exaggerated faces. Crossing his eyes. Tilting the camera at awkward angles. In one, he had his tongue slightly out, eyes wide in mock innocence.

  A quiet laugh escaped Terrance before he could stop it. He covered his mouth quickly and lowered his head as though concentrating on his food.

  After breakfast and a few lingering hours at home, Terrance left and let the city pull him forward.

  He wandered into a clothing store he had passed dozens of times but rarely entered. Music drifted softly through the speakers, low enough not to intrude.

  Racks of jackets and layered shirts stood in neat rows beneath warm overhead lighting.

  He ran his fingers along different fabrics as he moved, pausing in front of a mirror to hold a dark blue jacket against his chest.

  His phone lit up in his hand.

  Simone was FaceTiming him.

  He hesitated only a second before answering.

  Her face filled the screen instantly, framed by loose curls and dramatic lighting that suggested she had positioned herself carefully.

  "Well hey, stranger," she said, smiling wide. "You still alive?"

  He smiled back. "Barely. I've just been out."

  They exchanged surface level updates at first. Work. The city. Small observations that skimmed the surface without going too deep.

  He started to explain something about how he had been feeling about Josh, but Simone interrupted and redirected the energy back toward herself.

  "You would not believe what happened with Nigel," she said, rolling her eyes before launching into the story without waiting for his response.

  Terrance listened, adjusting the jacket back onto its hanger while she detailed another cycle of frustration that sounded eerily familiar.

  "Oh, and you need to come get me next weekend," she added suddenly. "I wanna see this new city you keep talking about. I'm serious. I need a change of scenery."

  Terrance nodded. "We'll see."

  "You always say that," she teased. "Make it happen."

  When the call ended, the store felt quieter than before. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and stepped outside, the late afternoon air cooler now.

  He grabbed something quick to eat from a nearby spot and carried it with him to a park a few blocks away.

  The space was open and calm, trees stretching high with branches that filtered the sunlight into soft patterns along the ground.

  He chose a bench tucked slightly away from the main path.

  He ate slowly, watching joggers pass and a child sprint after a loose soccer ball that rolled dangerously close to the street before being scooped up again.

  The world around him moved with an ease he tried to borrow.

  When he finished, he wiped his hands carefully and pulled out his phone.

  He angled it toward the light and took a few photos of himself, adjusting his expression until it looked effortless.

  Relaxed. Unbothered.

  He posted one with the caption new city, new energy, presenting it like proof that he was building something here, even if he was still trying to believe it himself.

  Within minutes, a few likes began to appear from names he barely registered. Acquaintances. Distant connections.

  For a moment, he imagined sending the photos directly to Isaiah. He pictured him opening it, pausing, maybe smiling at the glimpse into Terrance's new life.

  He imagined a message appearing seconds later. You look good. I'm proud of you.

  The fantasy warmed him, then thinned.

  He knew better than to reach.

  Instead, another idea surfaced, quieter and more deliberate.

  He switched over to Sicily's page and found the post through her feed.

  From there, he liked it, shared it, and commented, you look amazing in these friend. miss you, adding a heart.

  Maybe Isaiah would see it and ask Sicily about him. How long they had known each other. Whether Terrance lived in the upstate too.

  The questions unfolded easily in his mind, each one carrying the possibility of his name being spoken somewhere he could not hear it.

  He let the idea linger as he sat there, watching the notifications settle.

  By the time he made his way back across town, the sun had begun its slow descent.

  The light stretched thin over the road, turning storefront windows amber and pulling long shadows across the pavement.

  He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely in his lap, replaying imagined conversations that had never happened.

  When he turned into the driveway, the house stood in partial shade.

  As soon as he opened the front door, the air inside met him differently. It felt heavier, dense with something unsettled.

  Voices carried from the living room, louder than conversation and edged with irritation.

  Beer cans littered the kitchen table, condensation rings marking the wood in uneven circles.

  More crowded the coffee table, one tipped on its side with a thin ribbon of foam drying along the rim.

  His father stood near the couch, face flushed, one hand cutting sharply through the air as he spoke.

  Josh leaned back with his arms crossed, jaw set, answering in a tone that did not bother to soften itself.

  Terrance did not linger.

  He moved down the hallway and up the stairs to his room, closing the door with careful quiet, as if restraint alone could keep the tension from following him.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, hands resting loosely between his knees, and listened to the rise and fall of their voices through the wall.

  His chest felt tight, though he could not have said whether it was the argument or something else entirely.

  A knock came sooner than he expected.

  His father stepped inside without waiting. "I'm heading out," he said. "Josh is staying here. He's too buzzed to drive."

  Terrance forced a small nod. "Okay. Have fun."

  His father pulled him into a hug. The embrace was firm and familiar.

  Moments later, the front door opened and shut with a weight that carried through the house.

  The sound echoed longer than it should have.

  Silence followed.

  Not the ordinary quiet of an empty home, but something thicker.

  Terrance stood in the center of his room, listening as the stillness pressed into the walls and settled beneath the floorboards. It gathered in the corners, patient.

  Then, beneath the hush, a shift.

  A floorboard downstairs gave a slow, deliberate creak.

  Another.

  Terrance's attention sharpened. He did not move, but his body knew before his mind did.

  The first step groaned under weight.

  Then the second.

  Josh was coming upstairs.