As Fay guided the food toward her, Kei chewed slowly, her gaze anchored to Fay’s eyes with an unmistakable warmth. For a moment, the world narrowed down to the space between them. Fay leaned in, her movements rhythmic and certain, drawn toward the threshold of a kiss. Kei’s eyes drifted to Fay’s lips, a flicker of desire crossing her face, but before the distance could close, she raised her hand.

Her palm met Fay’s lips, a soft, agonizing barrier.

Fay’s expression fractured, a shadow of hurt clouding her eyes before she abruptly stood. Without a word, she retreated to the bathroom, her disappointment masked by a thin veil of composure. Left behind, Kei sat in the echoing silence, her face hardening into a serious mask. She wanted that kiss, she craved it but the weight of their circumstances held her back, a secret tether she couldn’t yet break. She watched Fay’s retreating back until the door clicked shut, then stared into space, lost in the cold reality of her choice.

When Fay finally emerged, the air in the room had shifted from warm longing to a biting chill. She sat across from Kei, who was now eating with a mechanical, distant focus. The only sound was the rhythmic clink of chopsticks against porcelain. They shared the same table, but the distance between them felt like a canyon.

Once the meal was finished, they moved toward the sink. Kei reached out, her gesture a silent peace offering. “Give it here,” her hand signaled, “I’ll take care of it.”

“No,” Fay snapped, her voice tight with a stubborn edge. “Give me yours. I’ll do them.”

Kei met her gaze, her own expression turning stern. “But”

Fay didn’t let her finish. She simply stared, her eyes flashing with a mix of lingering anger and bruised pride. Admitting defeat, Kei lowered her head. “Thank you,” she murmured, handing over the plate before retreating to the living room.

While Fay scrubbed the dishes with unnecessary force, Kei began laying out the supplies for their poster. When Fay finally joined her on the couch, she pointedly sat on the far end, leaving a glaring gap between them.

Kei noticed. She shifted closer. Fay immediately moved further away.

Kei shifted again, closing the distance once more. As Fay prepared to slide away a third time, Kei’s patience snapped. She reached out, grabbing Fay’s hand and pulling her sharply. She underestimated her own strength; the force sent Fay tumbling toward her until they were tangled together, Fay practically in Kei’s lap.

Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling in the sudden, forced intimacy.

“Why are you being so distant?” Kei asked, her voice dropping to a low, serious vibration.

Fay didn’t answer. She merely rolled her eyes, her silence a wall Kei couldn’t climb. She struggled out of the “hug,” straightening her clothes with a sharp, dismissive movement.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Fay said, her voice devoid of emotion. “Let’s do the poster.”

“Okay,” Kei whispered.

They worked in a vacuum of sound. The scratching of markers and the rustle of paper were the only things filling the room. When the final stroke was laid down, Fay reached for her phone, snapped a photo for the group chat, and stood up.

“It’s done,” Fay said, her tone professional and icy. “You can leave it here. I’ll submit it on Monday.”

Kei stood, gathering her things. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll leave now… thank you again.”

Kei walked toward the door, her spine straight, never looking back. Fay stood motionless, her eyes fixed on Kei’s retreating figure. She watched until the door clicked shut, and even then, she continued to stare at the empty space where Kei had been. Outside, the sound of a taxi pulling away signaled the end of the night, leaving Fay alone in a house that felt far too large.