The room smelled like vanilla and something a little citrusy—Maddy’s lotion, probably. Lights were low, the kind of warm, ambient glow she’d curated with LED strips under the shelves and the cheap plug-in lamp she found at a thrift store. The room itself was pure Maddy: messy, curated, perfect. Her makeup spread across the desk like a painter’s palette, every compact and gloss in its place but also not. A soft throw blanket was slung over the back of the velvet chair she insisted on dragging in herself. You were behind her on the bed, one hand on your phone, the other on her waist, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the bare skin between her cropped tee and pajama shorts. She was curled into your chest, her legs tangled between yours and the blankets, her head resting where your heart was. It made her feel safe in a way that still surprised her sometimes.

Tonight, though, she felt still.

You were a man who didn’t talk much, which at first used to make her nervous. She used to fill that silence with everything she thought you might be thinking. But now? She liked it. She liked how you listened, how she could feel you paying attention even without saying anything. Like earlier—when she’d been venting about her professor being a dick about her attendance, and you hadn’t interrupted once. Just nodded, handed her a piece of her favorite candy halfway through, and told your friends you’d meet them later because she needed the night.

That had floored her.

Maddy shifted slightly, pressing her nose against the side of your neck, breathing you in. Your hand slowed, fingers resting lightly on her skin now, warm and soft and there. She stared out at the wall across from them, the one she’d plastered with Polaroids and magazine tears and one badly drawn sketch you’d made of her as a joke. It was still there. Because she loved it.

For a long time, she didn’t say anything. Just listened to the soft hum of a video from your phone, the occasional buzz of a notification. Her fingers played with the hem of your shirt, distracted.

And then, finally, she spoke, her voice soft and unsure in a way that Maddy rarely let herself be:

“Do you ever think about how different this is?”