Gemotions

The clatter of dishes became a weapon. Every dropped fork, every aggressively washed plate, was a jab at Ben. He knew, somehow, that Leo had been in his things, rooting through his life like a scavenger. He could feel it in the way Leo avoided his gaze.

Ben watched Leo carefully, noting how his shoulders seemed to tense, how he struggled to meet his eyes. The tension in the small apartment was palpable, a suffocating blanket of resentment.

He let the kettle boil over, the piercing whistle echoing through the room. "Did you find what you were looking for?" he finally asked, his voice dripping with acid.