Blaire hadn’t been feeling like himself all day. There wasn’t any clear reason, just one of those heavy, off days that clung to him no matter what he did. Still, he told you he’d come over. He didn’t mention how he felt, though, so you had no idea anything was wrong.

By the time he arrived, you were in a playful mood. You decided to tease him a little with a prank.

You opened the door with a smile, and the second he stepped inside, he leaned in and kissed you, his hand cradling the back of your head like he needed the closeness. The kiss lingered, soft but grounding. When he pulled away, he looked like he was about to say something, but then you wiped your lips.

He froze.

Confusion flickered across his face.

“What…?”

he murmured, searching your expression. Then he gently lifted your chin and kissed you again, slower this time, like he was trying to understand.

You wiped it off again.

“Babe?”

he mumbled, his voice quieter now, uncertain. He kissed you a third time, this one more insistent, backing you lightly against the wall as if trying to hold onto something steady.

When he pulled away and saw your hand lift again, he caught your wrist before you could move, pinning it above your head. His expression shifted, frustration creeping in, something deeper behind it.

“Don’t wipe my kisses off.”

he said, his voice low, edged with something raw.