Months have passed since that intense day in the file room. The awkward tension between Kurt and me has gradually given way to a cautious camaraderie. We share jokes now, laugh together, and our routine has settled into a comfortable rhythm. Kurt picks me up for work every morning, and we go out for lunch together. It's a welcome change from the isolation I felt before.

Today is no different. As Kurt drives me home, we chat about the day's events, a light-hearted banter that makes the drive pleasant. We pull up in front of my apartment building, and I feel a pang of contentment as we prepare to say goodbye.

Kurt stops the car and we share a final joke before I get out. I open the door and step onto the sidewalk, ready to head inside. But as I approach the entrance to my building, I freeze. Calvin is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and his face set in a hard expression. The sight of him makes my heart race, a mixture of dread and longing flooding through me.

Kurt notices my sudden pause and follows my gaze. His expression hardens as he sees Calvin. He steps closer, his posture tense.

Calvin's eyes lock onto Kurt, and the air between them thickens with animosity. I can almost feel the tension crackling in the space around us.

"Calvin," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "What are you doing here?"

Calvin straightens up, his eyes never leaving Kurt. "Just checking in. Thought I'd see how you've been holding up."

I can sense the underlying hostility in his tone, and I turn to Kurt, hoping for some kind of reassurance. But he's already moving, his face a mask of cold resolve.

"I should go," Kurt says, his voice tight. "I'll catch you tomorrow, Kat."

I nod, feeling the weight of the situation. As Kurt walks away, Calvin steps closer to me, his eyes still on Kurt's retreating figure.

"Are you really letting him back into your life?" Calvin's voice is filled with frustration and hurt. "After everything he did?I warned you that being around him is dangerous. It's only a matter of time before the Brotherhood find him."

I look at Calvin, torn between the desire to defend Kurt and the pain of seeing my brother so angry. "Kurt's trying to make things right. He's not the same person he was."

Calvin's face contorts with anger. "He left the Brotherhood. That's a betrayal. He's no better than anyone else who's turned their back on us."

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. "And you're still part of it. You're the one who chose to stay."

Calvin's eyes flash with something between hurt and defiance. "I did what I had to do. Not everyone can just walk away from that life."

The argument feels like it's building up, and I can feel the tension between us. My heart aches at the sight of Calvin's anger and Kurt's fading silhouette. The rift between them is deep and painful, and it's clear that reconciliation is far off.

"I don't want to fight," I finally say, my voice breaking slightly. "I'm just trying to move forward. Please, can we not do this right now?"

Calvin's expression softens just a little, though his eyes are still troubled.

As turns to walk away, my heart is heavy with the unresolved tension between him and Kurt. The evening feels unsettled, and I can't shake the feeling of loneliness that's crept up on me.

I take a deep breath and turn back to Calvin. "Wait. Do you want to come in for a bit? We could have some tea and watch a movie. It's been a while since we did that."

Calvin hesitates, then nods. "Sure, Kit Kat."

He follows me upstairs. I unlock the door and we step inside, the familiar comfort of my apartment wrapping around us. It's quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy with unspoken words. I head to the kitchen to put on a kettle of water for tea, trying to ignore the tension from earlier.

Calvin follows me in, his gaze lingering on the cozy, lived-in space. "It's nice here," he says, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Cozy."

I manage a small smile. "Yeah, it's nice to have a place that feels like home."

We sit at the kitchen table, sipping our tea as we catch up on mundane details of our lives. The conversation starts to flow more naturally, the earlier tension slowly easing as we talk about work, friends, and old times. It's comforting, the way it used to be before everything got so complicated.

After a while, we move to the living room and I put on an old movie we used to love laughing at.

We settle onto the couch, the soft glow of the TV casting a warm light in the room. I'm careful to keep a bit of distance at first, but as the movie plays and the evening wears on, the familiar ease between us begins to return. Calvin reaches for the blanket on the back of the couch and drapes it over us.

I let out a sigh, leaning back into the cushions. Calvin's presence is soothing, and I can't help but feel a pang of longing for the way things used to be. We sit close together, our shoulders touching, the shared warmth and comfort drawing us back to simpler times.

The movie plays on, but our focus drifts. Calvin shifts slightly, and I find myself leaning into him. The old, comforting feeling of being close to him wraps around me, and I relax into his side. He puts an arm around me, pulling me closer, and I let myself sink into the embrace. The sensation is familiar and comforting, a small piece of the past that feels good to reclaim.

As the movie continues, we don't speak much, simply enjoying each other's company. Calvin's hand is resting on my shoulder, and I feel his breath against my hair. It's a small, intimate moment that reminds me of our shared history, of a time before everything became so complicated.

When the movie ends, we remain on the couch, wrapped in the blanket, the room filled with the quiet hum of the city outside. I feel a mix of comfort and sadness, knowing that despite this moment of peace, the complexities of our lives and the issues between us remain unresolved.

Calvin looks down at me, his expression soft. "I missed this," he says quietly. "Missed being close like this."

I look up at him, my eyes full of the emotions I've been holding back. "Me too," I admit, my voice barely a whisper. "I missed you."

We sit in silence for a while longer, simply enjoying the closeness, the shared memories, and the rare, peaceful moment together. It's a brief respite from the difficulties and the heartache, a reminder of the bond we still share, even amidst the turmoil of our lives.

The movie has ended, and the room is bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. Calvin's arm is still around me, and the warmth of his embrace feels both comforting and bittersweet. We've fallen into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from being around someone you've known for a long time.

Calvin shifts slightly, turning his head to look at me. There's a softness in his eyes that I haven't seen in a while. For a moment, we just look at each other, the space between us filled with unspoken feelings and a shared history that neither of us can deny.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Calvin leans in. His lips brush against mine, gentle and fleeting. The kiss is soft, barely more than a touch, but it carries a weight of emotion and longing that words can't fully express.

I'm caught off guard, my heart skipping a beat as his lips make contact with mine. For a moment, I'm overwhelmed by the surge of feelings—the familiarity, the comfort, and the ache of missing him. I don't pull away. Instead, I let the kiss linger, feeling the warmth and tenderness in it.

When he pulls back slightly, I find myself leaning in, instinctively nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His skin is warm against my cheek, and I can smell the faint trace of his cologne.

Calvin's hand gently strokes my hair, and I close my eyes, letting myself be enveloped by the comfort of his presence. It's a brief, precious moment of connection, a reminder of the bond we share, even when everything else seems so complicated.

We stay like that for a while, the world outside fading away as we hold onto each other, finding solace in the simple act of being close. The kiss was gentle, a fleeting touch, but its impact lingers, a testament to the depth of our feelings and the difficulty of navigating our complicated relationship.

Eventually, I pull back slightly, looking up at Calvin with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. "Calvin," I say softly, my voice trembling slightly, "we can't just go back to how things were."

He nods, understanding the weight of my words. "I know," he replies quietly. "But I just needed you to know that I'm here. I care about you, Kit Kat. Always have."

I give him a small, sad smile. We sit together for a while longer, savoring the brief moment of closeness before reality settles back in. The evening has been a mix of comfort and complexity, and while it doesn't solve our problems, it brings us a little closer together, if only for a moment.

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