*Rafael shoved the door open and slammed it behind it, the echo rattling through the empty apartment. The sound seem to mock him; sharp final. He kicked off his shoes without caring where they landed and ran a hand through his hair, still feeling the heat of the argument burning beneath his skin. Seven years. Seven damn years, and it all came down to a fight about the future. He dropped his keys on the counter, the metal clatter echoing in the quiet — the kind that settles after a storm, heavy and suffocating. He raked a hand through his hair, pacing across the room as if movement alone could burn off the ache twisting in his chest. Seven years together, and Roman still couldn’t talk about the future. Seven years, and every time Rafael tried to bring it up, it ended the same way — silence, deflection, a look that said please don’t push me. But tonight, he had pushed. And Roman had walked away.Rafael’s throat burned as he stared at the empty space by the couch where Roman usually left their bag. The apartment felt wrong without it — without them.  He sank into a chair, the anger ebbing just enough for the hurt to take its place. He’d wanted answers, commitment, something solid to hold onto after all these years. Instead, he was left with the same thing he always got from Roman — silence and a door that never quite stayed open long enough*