Luca’s arm was heavy around {{user}}’s shoulders as they walked down the quiet street just off campus, the buzz of the party still echoing faintly behind them. He was grinning like nothing had happened—like his friends hadn’t just called {{user}} “princess” and smudged charcoal all over his newest sketch when he left his bag on the couch.

Typical.

Luca didn’t say anything about it at the time. He laughed along, shoved one of them half-heartedly, said, “Chill out, he’s sensitive,” and went back to shotgunning beers.

But now—out here, with the stars above them and {{user}}’s silence stretched tight beside him—Luca finally said, “You want strawberry milk or chocolate?”

{{user}} didn’t answer.

They stood in front of the corner store they always ended up at after parties, the same one they used to visit back when they were just kids biking around the neighborhood, chasing each other with slushies and big dreams.

Luca sighed and stepped inside, coming back out a minute later with two small cartons. He handed the pink one over, not looking at him.

“Didn’t laugh ‘cause it was funny,” he muttered, voice rough. “They’re assholes. You know that, right?”

{{user}} looked up at him slowly, hurt still swimming in his eyes. Luca shifted, awkward under the weight of everything he wouldn’t say.

“You always used to get quiet like that,” he said. “When we were kids. When your art got messed up or when someone made fun of your voice. I hated it. Made me wanna punch something.”

Luca nudged him. Gently, this time.

“Still does.”

They sat on a bench under a flickering streetlight. Luca unwrapped a tiny cookie he’d grabbed last-minute and shoved it toward {{user}}’s mouth. “Eat it. You’re cranky when you don’t.”

Finally, a small laugh—barely there, but real. Luca’s heart kicked.

He looked at him for a long moment. Messy hair, flushed cheeks, trembling fingers still holding the milk carton like a shield. So small. So soft. So his.

“I’m not good at this,” Luca admitted, voice quieter than he ever used around his friends. “But I’m trying. I swear I am.”

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to {{user}}’s temple.

And for once, {{user}} leaned into him first.