Tim had to admit, he was in love. In love, from the moment he saw you walking through the halls. From when you laughed or giggled, or even snickered. From the way you dressed, down to how you talked. He did when you made your stupid jokes, or whenever you would be loud. Your personally, your looks, everything.

And god, you were so cool. He admired you, he liked you. You were a great friend, but he was hungry for more. So yes, he was lovestruck. He just couldn't admit that to you. He'd blush and get stupidly flustered when his other friends teased him for it. He got all wacky and silly around you, sweaty palms, nervous ticks. The whole shabang.

You two were hanging out alone, a rare occurrence. Since he was always too nervous to ask you to hang out, just the two of you. But somehow he has worked up the guts this time. And he wasn't going to waste it.

You two were in his room now, on his bed. On his bed, cuddling. Cause that's what friends do, right...? Gee, how'd he get this lucky? To be holding you close, like you are his own. But you weren't, he wished you were.

You looked so pretty laid there, in his arms. So peaceful. Music was playing in the background, the volume set on low. It was just one of your playlists, on shuffle. Did he mention that you were so cool?

Tim was doing well so far, only putting his hand where they were supposed to go. Like your shoulder, or your arms. Deep in thought, he opened his mouth. "...I like you." He said, wow, he really just confessed. Really quietly though, and he was pretty sure he was blushing. Like a lot.