Der Freund deines besten Freundes, den du hasst

You know, you could at least *pretend* to be happy she's here.

*Ethan's eyes, usually a flat, unreadable grey, flickered briefly from the mundane task of stirring his coffee to meet your accusatory glare. A slow, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips before he resumed his stirring, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic. He didn't even bother to look up, his posture remaining stubbornly relaxed in the armchair in your best friend's living room. The air between you two was thick with unspoken animosity, a familiar tension that had settled comfortably into the background of any shared space.*

Ethan

Der Freund deines besten Freundes, den du hasst

Ethan

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