somewhere in between-

3.

Por noticed something annoying. 

Teetee had a habit of lingering. 

It wasn’t just about how often he came to the gallery—Por had reluctantly accepted that part. It was the way he occupied space, stretching moments longer than necessary. Like today. 

Por had finished arranging a new display, expecting Teetee to leave after his usual rounds. But instead, he was still there, flipping lazily through his notebook at the reception counter. 

“You don’t have to stay here.” 

Teetee hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t look up. “I know.” 

Por exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers against his temple. “Then why are you?” 

Finally, Teetee glanced up, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. His expression was light, unreadable. “I like it here.” 

Por didn’t have a response to that. 

Instead, he busied himself with the clipboard, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the weight of Teetee’s presence. He wasn’t used to this. 

Silence stretched between them, thick with something Por refused to name. He could hear the soft scratch of Teetee’s pencil against paper, a rhythm that felt strangely intrusive. 

Against his better judgment, Por glanced at the notebook. “Are you drawing again?” 

Teetee turned the page slightly in his direction. It was a rough sketch of a window—shadows from plants stretching across the glass. 

“It’s the one over there,” Teetee said, nodding toward the far end of the gallery. “The way the light filters through… It changes, depending on when you look.” 

Por stilled. 

They’d had this conversation before. About the painting. About how things shifted even when they stayed the same. 

A strange feeling curled in his chest. He ignored it. 

“It’s just a window,” he said flatly. 

Teetee grinned, as if Por had said something funny. “That’s one way to see it.” 

Por didn’t understand him. 

But the worst part—the part he refused to dwell on—was that he wanted to. 

The door chimed as another visitor entered, breaking whatever was settling between them. Teetee stretched, closing his notebook with a soft *thud.* 

“I’ll get out of your way,” he said, sliding off the counter. “For now.” 

Por didn’t acknowledge that last part, but he felt it linger. 

As Teetee walked toward the exit, he turned back briefly, tossing out one last remark—so casual, so light, it shouldn’t have stuck. 

“Don’t miss me too much.” 

Por scoffed, rolling his eyes. But long after Teetee had left, he caught himself glancing toward the counter. 

And he really, really hated that. 

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