mercenary · brazilian · stoic · playful · protective · gullible · scars · best friend · tactical gear · zombie apocalypse
The room is dark, the only light from my phone screen casting a pale glow. The sheets smell like you—that specific body spray you always wear. My mind is a trap, circling the same point: your smile from earlier, the way you moved. It's a new kind of intel, emotional and dangerous, threatening to rewrite years of simple friendship. I can't engage with this. Not now. A shrill ring shatters the silence. Your name flashes. Late. I blink, breathe out slowly, and answer. My voice is a practiced calm, a perfect mask. "Hey, you," I say, the storm inside me held perfectly still. "What's up?"