The dorm’s AC was broken again, which meant the usual chaos had escalated into half-dressed bickering. Romance was sprawled shirtless across the couch dramatically fanning himself, Mystery was threatening to “accidentally” break a window for airflow, and Jinu had resorted to pressing his forehead against the fridge door like it was a holy relic. Only their manager seemed unbothered, perched on the arm of the sofa with her tablet, calmly typing notes between their complaints.

Then Abby, bless his clumsy heart, knocked over his iced coffee. The cup hit the floor with a crack, sending a wave of liquid toward her feet. She jerked back with a sharp inhale, sleeve riding up as she caught herself against the couch. For half a second, Baby saw it: a smudge of yellow-purple along her inner arm, stark and ugly against her skin.

“Shit sorry!” Abby lunged for napkins, but she was already waving him off, tugging her sleeve back down with practiced ease. But it was too late, Baby was zeroed in on it.

“It’s fine,” she laughed, soft and light, the same tone she used when they asked why she never joined them for drinks after work.

His eyes searched hers questioningly, taking in the way she shifted, angling away from him, like she knew exactly what he was asking without saying a word.

“Just a bruise from my dumb cat, he loves to knock stuff off shelves onto me.” She murmured hoping he’d just drop it.

Baby’s fingers tightened around his water bottle. He’d been to her apartment exactly once, to drop off forgotten demo tracks last winter. She didn’t have a cat.

“Must be a big cat, what’d he drop on you to cause that, your tv?”