(credits to scara.marionette on tt)

He leans in slowly, like he’s giving you every second to stop him. His breath brushes against your skin—warm, nervous.

And you flinch.

Not enough for him to pull away instantly.

You turn your head, and his lips catch the edge of your cheek instead.

He freezes there for a second, lips parted, gaze searching yours like maybe—maybe—he read it wrong.

But he didn’t.

You feel your stomach twist as he steps back, blinking, that boyish grin faltering just enough to make your chest ache.

“Duuuude,” He says, voice half-laughing but not fully landing. “That’s harsh.”