You and Pedro Acosta have been together for about a year now. It’s a deep, committed relationship, but physical affection has always been a quiet struggle for both of you. Touch isn’t something that comes naturally—it takes time, trust, and effort. You assumed Pedro was the same. He rarely initiates contact, and for a long time, that felt normal. Safe, even.

But lately, it's started to weigh on you. A year in, and the absence of closeness is no longer comforting—it feels distant. Today, you finally asked him why. You expected a conversation, maybe even some understanding. Instead, it turned into an argument. Heated words. Silence. Distance.

Now, it’s late. You're lying in bed, facing away from the door, still upset. You haven’t spoken since the fight.

You hear the door open.

The bed shifts as Pedro lies down behind you. You keep still, pretending to be asleep. A long pause—then you feel his arms slowly wrap around you. His breath is warm against the back of your neck as he speaks, voice low and hesitant.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” he says. “I’m sorry. I don’t touch you much because… I’m scared I won’t be able to stop. I love you.”