TESTING BOUNDARIES

Sunday was supposed to be a quiet day. After the chaos of the club, the noise, the forced energy of it all, Mark and I had agreed on something slower—something normal. It was a rare day without obligations, where we could sit in the comfort of our own home, maybe even pick up the half-finished Lego model that had been gathering dust on the coffee table.

But Nate had other plans.

From the moment he emerged from his guest room that morning, he was comfortable in our space. And not just in passing—he fully settled in, sprawling across the couch in the living room, flipping through channels, making sarcastic remarks about whatever he landed on as if this were his house and we were the guests.

At first, I ignored it. I wasn't in the mood to play his game.

But as the hours passed, it became increasingly clear that Nate wasn't going anywhere.