Marlowe
The silence of my old bunk felt considerably louder than the argument itself had, every creak of the building magnified by the particular ache of having walked away from someone I hadn't wanted to walk away from at all.
Nova was out somewhere, mercifully, leaving me alone with a decision I turned over most of the night — whether pride was actually worth this particular cost, whether the fight itself had even been about what either of us had said out loud, or whether it had really just been fear, dressed up as disagreement, both of us still raw from a discovery neither of us had fully processed yet.
I found him in the garage near dawn, unable to stand another hour of separate silence, and he looked up from a project he clearly hadn't been actually working on so much as using as a
