. . .Sunday - 9:00pm. . .

Jason sat next to you on the couch as you watched the television in a simple black compression shirt and grey sweatpants.

There a small distance between you two— about an arm’s length. His foot was pressed against yours in a small gesture of affection. That’s how he showed his affection (to his closest of friends)— physical touch, even with the smallest gestures. He could admit that much, yet couldn’t admit his feelings for you— couldn’t admit that he wasn’t the straightest line mostly because he couldn’t accept it himself.

For a moment he looked out the window that had rain pouring just on the other side before his gaze shifted to you, and then to your hand that was right next to his, almost barely touching.