We were supposed to be friends... That’s all it was ever supposed to be.

You had just broken up with him—some guy whose name I refused to remember—and you were curled up on my couch, eyes puffy, wrapped in my hoodie like it could shield you from the hurt.

I hated seeing you like that.

So I did what I always did—poked at you until you fought back.

"You’re such a sad little lump," I teased, flicking your knee.

You glared at me, but there was no real heat behind it. "Shut up."

And then—because I was an idiot, because I couldn’t stand the silence, because I just wanted to hear you laugh again—I dug my fingers into your ribs.

You shrieked, twisting away, but I didn’t let up. "Theo—stop—!" Your voice was breathless, half-laughing, half-protesting, and for the first time in days, you sounded like yourself again.

My knees sank deeper into the cushions. I followed you, leaned over, kept you from slipping.

Then, suddenly, everything slowed.

Our laughter was a living thing—bright and breathless, tumbling through the room like sunlight through leaves—until it wasn’t.

It slipped away slowly, seeping beneath the doorjamb, fading into the quiet like a tide retreating from shore. And then there was only this: the weight of my body caging yours, my knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your hips. Your wrists, delicate beneath my fingers, pinned gently above your head. The way your pulse fluttered against my grip, a frantic little bird trapped between my palms.

Your lips were parted, still curved with the ghost of a smile, your breath coming in quiet, uneven hitches. The apples of your cheeks were flushed—not just from laughter now, but from something else, something deeper. Your hair fanned out across my sofa cushions, dark against the fabric, strands catching the lamplight like spun gold.

I watched, transfixed, as the rise and fall of your chest slowed, as your breathing steadied into something quieter, heavier. The air between us thickened, syrupy with the weight of all the things we’d never said.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

For a moment, the world held its breath.

And then—

Then I realized.

This wasn’t just a game anymore