Evan stood outside Ryan’s apartment door for over thirty minutes.
The hallway light flickered every so often, casting long shadows over the chipped floor tiles. His coat was still half-unzipped, shirt torn down one side, belt buckle loose. His hand hovered over the door once. Twice. Three times.
He didn’t knock.
He didn’t need to.
If Ryan cared, he’d open it. He’d text. Call. Something.
But the phone stayed silent.
And the door never opened.
So Evan left.
⸻
By the time he made it back to the apartment, his face was frozen and his mood worse.
The two-bedroom unit was warm, cluttered, and smelled faintly like popcorn and weed. His roommates—Devon and Alex—were curled up on the couch in matching hoodies, Netflix paused on the screen.
Alex was the first to look up. “Dude… rough nigh
