Silent Signals

The Brothers House was unusually calm that morning. No buzz from the speakers. No cryptic announcement from the producers. No challenge scrolls waiting by the front door. Just silence—and housemates trying to make sense of it.

Most of them had gathered in the lounge, sprawled across the velvety teal sectional or leaning against the pastel-accented walls. The room, bathed in soft morning light, smelled faintly of toast and yesterday's lavender diffuser.

Lena sat on one end of the couch, a cup of tea cradled in her hands, while Nathan sat beside her, comfortably close but not encroaching. Their conversation was low, steady.

"You sketch too?" Nathan asked, leaning in with mild surprise. "Like characters?"

Lena nodded, a little bashful. "Just... sometimes. I used to draw when I was a kid, then forgot about it. Picked it up again during lockdown."

Nathan grinned. "You'll have to show me sometime. I'm always looking for a partner to draw terrible comics with."

Before Lena could respond, Jayden—always the loudest among them—cut in from across the room.

"Wait, Lena, how old are you again?" he asked, twisting sideways to face her. "I swear, you give me twenty-something energy but also, like, CEO composure."

Lena laughed. "I'm twenty-seven."

"Oof," Ruby said from the armrest. "That's the best age. To have a lover."

Jayden raised his brows. "And where you from? City girl?"

"Born in the suburbs, raised in the city," Lena said, playing along. "I moved a lot growing up."

"Hobbies?" Jayden pressed.

Lena took a breath, glancing briefly at the GoPro lens perched on the bookshelf. "Reading, writing, sketching, solo walks at night… weird things."

"Sounds romantic," Ruby chimed in, eyes sparkling. "She's a poet in hiding."

"Or a ghost," Jayden teased. "Silent walks at night? That's suspicious."

Laughter rippled across the group.

In the kitchen, behind a half-wall that barely separated the open layout, Jason stood quietly with a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He was rinsing a colander or pretending to. His eyes flicked upward every few seconds—just enough to catch her voice.

Lena's voice. Light. It wasn't the brittle tone he remembered from their last fight. That version of her had fire in her throat and heartbreak in her stare.

This one was laughing.

Beside him, Jordan was cutting up fruit for the shared snack plate but kept glancing toward the group as well. "They're bonding fast," he commented casually.

Jason hummed without much thought.

"You sure you're cool hanging back here?" Jordan added. "They're probably going to drag us out in a second."

Jason shrugged. "I'm helping you."

"Right. But you're also pretending to rinse the same bowl for five minutes."

Jason didn't answer. His jaw flexed slightly as Lena's laugh rang out again.

Back in the living room, Ruby's curiosity got the better of her. She turned her head and called, "Hey, Jason! Are you hiding in there?"

"I'm helping Jordan," Jason called back, not looking up.

Jordan sighed. "I'll finish. Go say hi. It won't kill you."

"I'm good."

"You've said the word 'good' at least fifteen times since you got here," Jordan muttered.

At that moment, Mikha, who had been curled up with a throw pillow, clapped her hands. "Let's do hobbies, all of us. Go around the room. It's weird we're living together and barely know anything real."

Lena sipped her tea, trying not to glance toward the kitchen. She could feel him not looking at her.

One by one, they started to share:

"I play the ukulele," Ruby said. "Badly, but with passion."

"I build LEGO sets," Jayden admitted. "Not the kid ones. The architectural ones."

Nathan shrugged. "I illustrate picture books and pretend it's not just an excuse to stay home."

Mikha shared her love for baking and old French films. Jordan, from the kitchen, called out that he was a self-proclaimed "food scientist."

Then, the dreaded silence.

All eyes turned toward the half-wall.

Jason.

Jordan turned and gave him a look. "Go. I'll handle the mangoes."

Reluctantly, Jason wiped his hands on the towel and stepped out. He felt the weight of the cameras, the group's energy, and her presence—most of all, her presence.

He sat on the edge of the couch, putting just enough space between him and everyone else.

Ruby grinned. "You're not escaping this. Hobbies?"

Jason met her eyes briefly. "Photography."

"Like… artistic?"

He shook his head. "Mostly candid stuff. People when they're not performing."

Lena's spine straightened slightly at that.

He'd taken hundreds of pictures of her when they were together. All candid. Her reading on the fire escape. Laughing with coffee foam on her lips. Crying in the dark after watching sad films.

He never posted a single one.

Nathan glanced between them but said nothing.

Ruby leaned in toward Mikha. "Now I want to see those photos."

"Some other time." Jason replied to Ruby.

The conversation drifted again, lighthearted and unpressured.

Ruby pouted. "Tease." But she didn't push.

The conversation drifted again, back toward safe territory—favorite movies, worst dates, weird talents.

Jason leaned back on the couch, arms crossed loosely, expression unreadable. He was watching now. Not her, exactly. Just the group. But Lena could feel it.

The way his eyes lingered when Nathan made her laugh.

The way his jaw flexed when she touched Nathan's arm without thinking.

She hated that she noticed.

Nathan was sweet. Kind. He didn't try too hard. He just was. And that made Lena relax around him in a way she hadn't expected.

He wasn't afraid of silence. He wasn't trying to impress her.

When he whispered something dry and stupid about Ruby being a secret spy, Lena had thrown her head back and laughed—and realized too late that Jason was watching.

That look.

That subtle shift in his posture.

The way his fingers curled slightly into his palm.

It was so fast anyone else would've missed it.

But not her.

Because she used to hold that hand. She used to know every flicker of tension and every silent recoil. She used to calm it.

Lena turned toward Nathan, a little more deliberately this time. "Do you still play piano?"

Nathan blinked. "I… yeah. Not as much anymore. I got shy about it."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "It's hard to play when no one's listening."

"That's the best time," she said softly. "No one's judging the wrong notes."

Nathan smiled at her, quiet and grateful. "You really think that?"

She nodded. "Music's not supposed to be perfect. Just honest."

Jason looked down at his lap. He could still remember the way she used to talk like that—unguarded, warm, and just a little poetic.

And it made something ache in his chest.

He hated this part of himself. The one that still missed. The one that wondered. The one that remembered too much.

What if I hadn't left?

He killed the thought as fast as it surfaced.

He chose this. He reminded himself again.

He left. For good reason.

Didn't he?

Mikha clapped her hands suddenly. "Okay, next question—if you had to be stuck in an elevator for 24 hours with anyone in this room, who would it be?"

Groans and laughter followed.

"Angela" said Marcus. "She'd flirt with the emergency button and get us out in five minutes."

"Excuse you," Angela smirked. "I'd seduce the ceiling panel. I'm versatile."

Nathan chuckled. "I'd say Lena. She'd probably keep me calm with some deep philosophical conversation about... elevator symbolism."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "Elevator symbolism?"

"Like... the ups and downs of life," Nathan deadpanned.

She burst out laughing. "Oh my God, that was terrible."

"Terribly accurate," he said with a proud grin.

Jason didn't join in the laughter.

He stared ahead, jaw tight, eyes slightly glassy.

Mikha teased him. "What about you, Jason?"

He blinked. "Hmm?"

"If you had to be stuck with someone in the elevator."

Jason hesitated. His gaze flitted briefly to Lena. Then to Nathan. Then away.

"Does it have to be someone here?" he asked, deflecting.

"Oof, brutal," Ruby laughed. "Can't even pick one of us?"

Jason offered a tight smile. "I'm not good in elevators."

The group chuckled awkwardly and moved on.

But Lena didn't.

Because she heard it—the underlying message. The way he turned the question sideways to avoid telling a truth.

Just like he always did when they were breaking.

Jason didn't lie. He just dodged with too much precision.

--

Later, when the group thinned out and the conversations spread into separate corners, Lena caught a moment alone by the kitchen counter, sipping from her water bottle.

Jason passed behind her to grab something from the fridge.

They didn't speak.

But for the briefest second, their shoulders brushed.

Not hard. Not intentional.

But enough.

Enough to remind them both that ghosts don't need names to haunt.

And sometimes, it's the silence that says: We were something once.

And maybe… still.