The note was still where Mix had left it, stuck to the desk, edges slightly curled from the fan.
Arm didn't move for a long time after seeing it.
He just stood there, fingers twitching at his side. As if afraid that touching the paper might make it vanish.
Then slowly, carefully, he peeled it free and read the words. Slowly, like a kindergarten would, it was almost as if the words written could stop a war
I saw him....
I didn't go in.
Not because I chose you.
Because I'm choosing me right now.
But I hope choosing me leads back to you.
I still want that.
Just not from a place of pain.
He sank onto the bed, note still in his hand.
He read it again.
And again.
It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't a goodbye either.
It was real.
And right now, real was enough to make his chest ache.
---
He didn't go to the café like he'd said in the sticky note. Maybe he should have. But something told him Mix wasn't going there either. They were both stuck between steps. Both waiting for the other to move.
Instead, he stayed in. Let the room fill with quiet and coffee steam. Answered a few messages. Deleted a few more. Watched the light crawl across the floor until it turned gold.
Then the knock came.
Quick. Sharp
He opened the door without thinking.
And there she was.
---
"Nee?"
"Hey," she said, breezing in like she used to. Same strawberry lip balm. Same slouchy bag. Same look that said she still didn't ask permission for anything.
Nee was one of the many girls Arm had dated, or had a fling with, he wasn't really the intense dating type.
He stared at her wandering what she was doing at his doorstep. It's been a while they bumped into each other
"I was in the building. Thought I'd say hi."
Arm blinked. "How did you know I still stayed here?"
She shrugged, toeing off her boots. "Didn't. I just got lucky."
It didn't feel like luck.
It felt planned.
But he didn't say anything. Just stepped aside and let her drop her things on Mix's bed before realizing.
"Oh," she said. "Roomates' out?" she asked
"Yeah."
"Right." She looked at him. Then smiled. "its been a while, how have you been?." She let out a light chuckle as she tucked her bline hair behind her ears
Arm didn't answer.
She sat. Cross-legged. Comfortable.
They talked. Not about anything deep. Just casual back-and-forth. Catching up like people who didn't know how not to.
Then the space between them shifted.
It always had with her. It didn't take much.
A look. A lean. A pause.
This time, it was a joke. He laughed. She leaned in. And before he could think, her lips were on his.
It didn't last long.
But it lasted long enough.
Because when he pulled back, breath caught in his throat, the door creaked open.
Mix was standing there.
---
The kiss had already ended, but the damage was still fresh in the air.
Mix stood in the doorway, frozen. His eyes flicked between Arm and the girl on his bed, then down to the boots by the door, then back up again. Expression unreadable.
He didn't speak. Didn't blink. Just watched.
Arm stood like someone caught mid-crime. One hand half-lifted, like he meant to stop something but didn't.
"Nee, get out," he said finally.
She raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
"Now."
Mix turned. Walked away before she could say another word.
Arm didn't wait for her reaction. He moved fast. Stepped over her bag, out into the hallway.
"Mix!"
Mix didn't stop. Not until Arm grabbed his arm. Not hard. Just enough.
Mix turned, slow and deliberate. His face wasn't angry.
It was worse.
It was blank.
"What do you want me to say?" Arm asked. "It meant nothing."
Mix didn't flinch. "I'm sure it didn't."
"You're not even going to ask?"
Mix crossed his arms. "Ask what? If you've moved on from her? If you needed closure? If it was just a kiss?"
"It was a mistake," Arm said.
"No," Mix said, voice flat. "A mistake is forgetting your charger. This... this was a choice."
"You walked in after..."
"I walked in late.But you still let it happen."
The hallway stretched wide around them, silent except for the thud of footsteps passing on the stairs.
Arm lowered his voice. "I didn't know she'd show up. I didn't want her here."
"But you didn't ask her to leave."
That stung.
Arm swallowed. "I panicked."
"You kissed back."
"I pulled away."
"Too late."
The silence this time was louder.
"I don't owe you anything," Mix said. "We're not official. You're not mine. I'm not yours. You're allowed to kiss whoever you want."
"Then why does it matter?" Arm asked.
"Because I wanted to believe I mattered."
Mix turned before Arm could speak again. Walked toward the stairs without looking back.
---
Back in the room, Nee had slipped her shoes back on.
"You've changed," she said, adjusting her jacket.
"You haven't," Arm replied.
"Still dramatic," she said with a small smile. "Still predictable."
He didn't answer.
She opened the door.
"You'll lose him," she added, pausing in the frame. "If you haven't already."
Then she left.
The door clicked shut. Final.
---
Arm sat on the edge of his bed, the room too quiet, too cold.
He stared at the blank spot where Mix's notebooks usually sat.
His chest burned.
Not from the kiss.
From the look on Mix's face when he saw it.
He didn't care about Nee. That wasn't what this was about.
This was about the space he was supposed to protect. And how he failed again.
---
Mix didn't go back to the room.
Not right away.
His feet took him across campus like they had somewhere to be. Past the gym. The quad. The familiar tree near the old theater building where the smokers liked to gather. None of it registered.
He ended up in the music hall. Of course he did.
It was quiet inside. Soft echoes from a distant piano, but otherwise empty. Mix wandered past the practice rooms until he found one with a light on. The door slightly cracked.
He knocked once, then peeked in.
Peat was sitting at the old upright piano, not playing. Just… there. Head tilted back against the wall. Eyes closed. Hands folded in his lap like he was praying or pretending not to exist.
Mix opened the door a little more.
Peat opened one eye. Didn't smile. Didn't ask anything.
Mix slipped inside and sat on the floor, his back to the opposite wall. Legs stretched out. Hoodie sleeves pulled down over his fists.
They didn't talk.
Peat didn't offer comfort. Mix didn't ask for any.
But there was something in the silence between them. Something that didn't feel heavy. Didn't demand.
Just let him breathe.
Minutes passed.
Then Peat finally said, "Was it him ?"
Mix nodded.
Peat didn't push.
"You want to scream, cry, or break something?"
"None," Mix whispered. "I just want to be somewhere that isn't a lie."
Peat gave a small nod. "You can stay as long as you want."
"I don't know what I'm doing," Mix admitted, voice barely a thread. "I thought maybe… I thought if I gave him a chance, he'd fight for it."
"And he didn't?"
Mix shook his head once. "Not when it counted."
Peat's gaze dropped to the dusty keys. "You know you... You should take it easy, right?"
"I know," Mix said. "But knowing it doesn't make it easier to walk away."
"No," Peat agreed. "But it makes it better to survive when you do."
They sat there for a while longer, shoulder to shoulder now, not talking. The piano between them like some kind of fragile, unfinished truth.
Outside, the sun dipped behind the buildings.
Inside, Mix didn't cry. He just let the silence hold him.