---
Aiden moved around the kitchen with tired grace, barefoot, sleeves rolled up. Miso sat lazily on the counter, tail flicking with curiosity. The overhead light glowed warmly, casting a golden hush over the room.
Sion leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching Aiden rummage for mugs.
"Milk or sugar?" Aiden mumbled.
"Just black," Sion replied.
"You seem like a three-shot espresso kind of guy."
"You'd be right. But I'll settle for your version of caffeine."
Aiden shot him a mock glare over his shoulder. "Wow. Such faith in me."
"I've seen your designs. I have high expectations."
Aiden mumbled something under his breath and reached up for a canister—he was just tall enough to stretch, but not enough to avoid wobbling on his toes. Without a word, Sion stepped forward and steadied the small of his back.
"Careful," he murmured.
Aiden froze, suddenly hyperaware of the hand on him. His fingers tightened on the canister.
"I'm not that short," he muttered.
"I never said you were," Sion said, letting go gently.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was quiet, full, like the soft pause between two verses of a song.
Soon, the smell of brewing coffee filled the kitchen. Aiden placed the mugs on the small table, sliding one toward Sion. They both sat down, the kitten hopping onto the windowsill to nap.
Aiden took a sip. "So. Why'd you really want to stay here?"
Sion didn't answer immediately. He was looking down at his cup, the shadows under his eyes more visible in the kitchen light.
"I hate empty places," he said finally. "Big rooms. Cold floors. Expensive silence."
Aiden tilted his head. "That's… oddly poetic."
"Ironic, isn't it?" Sion glanced at him. "CEO of a massive company. Lives in a penthouse. Still runs from silence."
Aiden looked at him more closely.
Not as a boss.
Not as a CEO.
Just… as Sion.
"I get that," he said softly. "Silence can feel louder than anything sometimes."
They didn't talk for a moment.
Just the sound of spoons tapping, coffee being sipped.
Then Sion asked, "You live alone here?"
Aiden nodded. "It's not so bad. I like the quiet. Most of the time."
"Until it's not quiet inside."
Aiden looked at him. That sentence… it hit too close to home.
"…Yeah."
He didn't elaborate.
Sion didn't ask him to.
Instead, Sion pushed his cup aside and leaned back in his chair. "Thanks for the coffee. And the couch. And not kicking me out after I basically forced myself into your home."
"You didn't force yourself," Aiden replied. "I said yes."
"Still. I'll make it up to you."
Aiden blinked. "With what?"
Sion gave him a faint smile. "Maybe another project. Or another late-night coffee."
"…Do all your business repayments come with caffeine?"
"Only for designers who spill juice on me."
Aiden laughed—a real, unguarded laugh. The first in weeks.
They stayed like that a little longer. No more teasing. No more questions.
Just two people, sitting in a warm kitchen, sharing the silence they both hated a little less now.
---