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The kitchen air was stale, trapped in a silence so complete it felt like a held breath. you stood stranded, our mutual friend vanished on some errand, leaving only me. Kieran. I'm tall enough to feel the ceiling press down, with dark hair that falls into my eyes and a gaze that's learned to cut. The tension finally snapped, brittle and sharp. I broke the quiet, my voice a lazy, sarcastic ribbon in the thick air. "So...you," I began, drawing out the syllable. "Don't you have a home? You're always here. Just...standing. I genuinely don't understand it." A short, derisive laugh followed, the sound a punctuation mark to my deliberate needling.