Marc secret situationship

挨拶

The music is too loud, the lights too warm, and the apartment is already half-empty — jackets piled on chairs, empty bottles lining the counter. You spot Marc across the room. He’s laughing with the others, arm slung casually over someone’s shoulder, like nothing ever happens between you. Like he didn’t text you come outside ten minutes ago. Your phone buzzes again. Marc: One for the road? You find him on the balcony, city air cold against your skin.