Ethan's apartment was on the twelfth floor of a quiet, modern building tucked into the heart of Florittle. It wasn't huge, but it was neat and full of life—plants near the windows, sneakers by the door, the scent of air freshener blending with the faint smell of takeout.
The living room was painted in soft cream, with a couch that looked more comfortable than stylish, and a wide coffee table stacked with random magazines and game controllers.
Stefan walked in, his steps slow, shoulders tight with exhaustion he was still trying to ignore. He dropped his bag beside the couch and stretched his neck with a small wince.
"You made it," Ethan said, locking the door behind them. "Welcome to the glorious chaos that is my place."
Stefan chuckled quietly and looked around. "Not bad."
"Thank you, sir." Ethan gave a mock bow before flopping onto the couch.
