I sat on the edge of my couch, legs crossed, staring out the small window at Ken's apartment.
It was quiet, too quiet, and my restless mind tugged at me.
I knew he was there, just a wall away, immersed in whatever he was doing, probably tending to the subtle chaos of his day, or maybe lost in the quiet solitude I imagined he sometimes craved.
I pulled my hoodie tighter around me and pushed off the couch.
If I didn't see him today, I knew I'd regret it.
I crossed the short hallway between our apartments and knocked on his door.
"Ysabelle?" His voice called out, warm, calm, just slightly surprised.
"I'm here," I said, cool, distant.
Nothing dramatic.
No need for theatrics.
He opened the door, that easy smile tugging faintly at the corners of his lips. "Hey. Want to come in?"
I stepped inside, letting the soft light of his apartment wash over me.
Everything smelled faintly of coffee and faint soap, clean and comforting. His space felt like him, warm without trying too hard, organized without being stiff.
"Afternoon," I said flatly, scanning the apartment as I let my hoodie slide off my shoulders.
"Afternoon," he replied lightly, glancing up from the stack of patient files he'd been sorting. "I wasn't expecting you today."
"I have time," I said simply, pulling a chair close to his small dining table.
Ken studied me for a moment, eyes softening in that way that made my chest betray me with a subtle warmth I refused to name. "Want some tea?"
I shook my head, voice steady. "No."
We settled into an easy silence, neither needing to fill the space with meaningless chatter.
I watched him move, hands deftly handling the files, a small crease in his brow as he concentrated, the subtle hum of focus in the quiet apartment.
He was captivating, even when he didn't notice it, even when he wasn't trying.
After a few minutes, Ken looked up and smiled faintly. "Observing again, I guess?"
I smirked faintly, coldly, shaking my head. "Always. Keeps me… aware."
He chuckled softly, sitting down across from me, his presence calm, grounding.
I felt my shoulders relax slightly, even as I kept my exterior cold, my expression neutral.
"Do you… want to go out?" he asked suddenly, tilting his head, curious. "Walk around? Take a break from… stress?"
I considered it, coldly evaluating. And then, without hesitation, I nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
We stepped out of our apartments together, the soft sounds of the town wrapping around us.
The air was warm with the lingering light of late afternoon.
We walked side by side, a subtle rhythm in our steps, comfortable but unspoken.
I noticed the way he occasionally glanced at me, gentle curiosity in his eyes.
I felt a flicker, annoyance, maybe, that he could unsettle me so easily, even without meaning to.
"Ken," I said finally, voice low, deliberate. "Do you… like Keisha?"
He stopped walking for a fraction of a second, turning to meet my gaze.
His expression softened, reassuring. "No," he said simply.
Something in my chest unclenched, though I didn't let myself show it.
I looked away, letting the corner of my eye catch the fading sunlight glinting off the rooftops, pretending I didn't feel the warmth spreading through me.
We continued walking, quiet but not awkward, the kind of silence that felt natural.
I studied him carefully, noting the small movements, the subtle tilts of his head, the way he carried himself, calm, effortless, grounding.
I wanted to say more.
But I didn't.
I just followed him, letting the quiet intimacy between us grow in layers, subtle but undeniable.
And inside me, I felt the small, insistent spark of something I hadn't allowed myself to feel in years: anticipation.