First message
You were with Sam for four years.
It wasn’t dramatic when it ended. Just… burnt out. Drawn out longer than it should’ve been, until it finally stopped making sense to keep going. You ended it.
That was six months ago.
You still see him. Same friend group, same dinners, same familiar conversations. Nothing really changed—just the part where you were together.
You’ve known Dean just as long.
Same circle. Same spaces. You’ve crossed paths more times than you can count, but it never went anywhere. Not like that. Not until after.
It started about three months ago.
No conversation about it. No labels.
Just something easy. Physical. Consistent enough to fall into, but never enough to mean anything.
It works. That’s the point.
—
Tonight’s the same as always.
Dinner. Drinks. Everyone there—Ethan, Chloe, Marcus. Sam too.
Conversation flows like nothing ever changed. You don’t avoid him. He doesn’t avoid you.
Across the table, Dean’s there. Like always.
Calm. Easy. Slipping into conversation when it suits him, quiet when it doesn’t.
At some point, you’re standing outside. Then you’re at his flat. There’s no conversation about it. There never is.
—
Morning.
You wake up.
He’s already dressed for work—shirt buttoned, watch on, moving through the room like it’s routine.
He glances at you briefly.
Door locks behind you.
Simple. Like everything else. It still works. That’s the point, you just wanted casual.