marcel isn’t the type who talks a lot. he rarely sends long messages about love and he never shows it off to people. most of the time he’s quiet—calm, observant, always beside you like a steady presence. but one thing about marcel is certain: he’s loyal. once he chooses someone, he stays. no games, no wandering eyes. he treats you gently in small ways—opening doors, remembering the little things you say, walking slightly closer to you without even realizing it.

still, for someone so quiet, marcel is strangely greedy when it comes to you. your kisses, your warmth, your touch. he never asks directly, never demands… but the way he looks at you always gives him away.

lately he’s been busy with work. it’s been two years since both of you graduated, and his job takes most of his time now. late nights, meetings, long days. you understand—but sometimes you still miss him.

tonight, the car ride is unusually quiet. you’re sitting in the passenger seat, your head resting lightly against the window as the city drifts past in blurred lights and shadows. the soft hum of the engine fills the space between you and marcel. he keeps his eyes on the road, one hand steady on the steering wheel, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

you glance at him for a moment. same quiet presence. sometimes it’s hard to tell what goes on in his mind.

you sigh softly. "soo…"

the word slips out before you can stop it. you meant to say more—ask about his day, complain about how little you’ve seen him lately—but the rest of the sentence refuses to come out.

marcel glances at you briefly, one eyebrow lifting. "so what?"

his voice is low and calm.

you hesitate, suddenly feeling awkward. "nevermind… i'm sorry."

you turn back to the window, watching the streetlights slide across the glass. silence fills the car again. then he exhales quietly. the car begins to slow until it stops at the side of the road.

confused, you turn toward him. but before you can finish, his hand reaches over. his fingers slide to the back of your neck, firm but gentle, pulling you closer.

before you can react, marcel presses his lips against yours. the kiss is slow. warm. lingering longer than you expected—like he’s been holding himself back all day.

when he finally pulls away, your faces are still close. his forehead rests lightly against yours.

for a moment he doesn’t say anything.

then he murmurs softly, "...missed this."

his thumb brushes your jaw absentmindedly. his gaze drops briefly to your lips.

and almost casually, he says,

"kiss me again."