It was past eight.
The bustling city sounds were muted by the semi–sound-absorbent windows.
The lights were dimmed, casting a warm orange glow over the room.
They'd just finished eating—an empty plate sat beside Salomé on the rug, another on the small side table near Giovanni, along with a half-full cup.
Salomé sat cross-legged on the living room floor, both legs folded beneath her, hands animated as she launched into a spirited account of her day—jumping from topic to topic with no real structure.
"…and then he went on to explain neuroscience to me and I had to listen like i didn't score second highest in the said course," she huffed.
Giovanni lounged on the couch next to her, a Rubik's cube turning rhythmically in his hands. Click. Twist. Click.
He didn't say much—just nodded occasionally, murmuring the occasional 'hm,' an amused smile tugging at his lips.
Salomé didn't mind and continued her rant.
"…then there's the vending machine in the entrance hallway which swallowed my coin four times and when I kicked it, people were looking at me like I was crazy or something."
Giovanni turned his head slightly to stifle a laugh.
She spun around and looked at him, deadpan.
"It's not funny."
"I didn't say anything."
"You laughed."
"Almost."
"And how is that better?"
"Fine. I'm sorry. Go on."
"No longer in the mood."
She pouted, crossed her arms, and tilted her head sideways so it rested against the couch cushion near his knee.
In the stretch of silence that followed, the only sounds heard were the muffled hum of the city beyond the windows, the steady whir of the fridge, the soft click-twist of the Rubik's cube in his hands and about ten sighs from her.
"Seems we'll no longer be roommates," she said a while.
Her voice was soft, almost casual, but it carried weight.
Giovanni's hands stilled.
She didn't look up at him, just kept her cheek pressed to the couch cushion.
"Seems so."
He set the Rubik's cube down gently on the side table and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees.
"It'll be quieter though," he said.
Salomé gave a small scoff and raised her head at him. "Is that your way of saying you'll miss me?"
He glanced down at her, meeting her gaze. "I'm saying it'll be quieter."
"Yeah right," she rolled her eyes and smiled faintly. She nudged the side of her face deeper into the couch.
Giovanni leaned back, elbows on the armrest, his gaze lingering on the soft fall of her blue hair. It shimmered under the dim light—sleek and smooth, stupidly touchable, like it was daring him to run his fingers through it.
He clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and looked away.
"When's your birthday?"
Salomé raised her head, blinking at the unexpected question. "Uh, me? Mine?"
"I think we're the only ones here."
"Do you have to be sarcastic?"
"No," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "But it keeps me going."
She narrowed her eyes at him but didn't reply—just watched him like she was still deciding whether or not to humor him.
"Well?" he prompted.
She sighed and tucked her legs in tighter beneath her. "It already passed. The fifth of last month."
"Hm."
"And you?"
"Yet to come," he said, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Twentieth of next month."
"Oh," she straightened, visibly perking up. "Are you going to celebrate it?"
"Nah. It's just another day of the week. Nothing—"
"Of course it's special," she cut in, frowning like he'd said something offensive. "Giovanni, the day you were born is not just another day."
He turned his head slowly to look at her. "How did you know what I was going to say?"
Salomé's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh. I did that, didn't I?"
She let out a laugh, a hint of pride tugging at her lips. "Damn, I'm awesome."
"Questa ragazza sarà la mia morte," he bit back a laugh, shaking his head.
Salomé whipped her head toward him. "You just spoke Italian."
"I didn't," he denied with a straight face.
"As if," she crawled up onto her knees, eyes narrowing as she faced him. "What did you say?"
Giovanni leaned in till their faces were nearly touching, his blue eyes locking onto her brown ones.
Salomé's heart pounded as she caught every detail of his face up close—the curve of his smirk, the calm in his gaze, the maddening stillness.
Then, with a teasing glint in his eye, he pulled away and rose to his feet.
"Goodnight," he said simply.
And just like that, he turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving her breathless and staring after him.
*
The click of the lock echoed as Salomé unlocked the door and pushed it open.
She stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes sweeping over the space she hadn't seen in weeks.
Everything was new. Fresh paint, untouched countertops, brand-new furniture she didn't pick out.
The layout mirrored Giovanni's—same open-plan kitchen and living area—but it didn't feel the same.
She stepped inside slowly and shut the door behind her, the soft thud of her shoes the only sound in the apartment. Her fingers grazed the back of the couch as she passed it.
She made her way to the window and stared out at the city for a long moment before turning away.
With a sigh, she sank onto the edge of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them, the silence pressing in from all sides.
She missed him already.