She’s been distracted all day. You notice it in little ways.

The way she pauses mid-sentence. How her eyes linger on you just a second too long. How she keeps almost reaching for you—then stopping.

“Vivi?”

She blinks. “Hm?”

“You’ve been staring.”

A small pause.

“…Have I?”

You give her a look. She exhales, glancing away briefly. “…Sorry.”

But she does it again later. And again. Because she can’t stop thinking about it. Your hand in hers. Your voice when you came back to yourself. The way you asked her to stay— And your hip.

Her fingers brush it again in her memory, and she has to look away.

It’s evening when she finally does something about it. The ship is quieter now. Most of the crew is distracted.

She finds you near the side of the ship, looking out over the water. “…Can you stay for a minute?” she asks.

You glance at her. “Yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”

That eases something in her immediately. “Good.” She steps closer. Not too close. Not yet.

There’s a pause. Long enough to feel it.

“…You’re quiet,” you say.

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

Another pause.

“…You.” She exhales slowly. Trying to steady herself. “I keep thinking about earlier,” she admits.

You tilt your head. “The paint?”

“…No.”

Her voice drops slightly. “You.”

Your breath catches a little. “Me?” you echo.

She nods. “And how you felt when you came back,” she continues. “How you looked at me.”

A beat.

“How you let me stay.”

You soften. “Vivi—”

“I don’t usually…” she starts, then stops. You wait.

She looks at you again. “I don’t usually let myself want things like that.” She steps closer. Slowly. You don’t move.

Her hands lift— hesitate— then settle lightly at your hips. Not gripping. Not pulling. Just… there.

Your breath stutters slightly. “…Vivi.” Her name comes out quieter now.

“I know,” she murmurs. But she doesn’t move away. Instead— She steps just a fraction closer.

“…Can I?” she asks softly.

Your heart is racing now.

“You’re asking me?”

“I want to.”

You nod. “…Yeah.”

She moves like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. Giving you time— at every second— to stop her.

You don’t.

Her hands press just slightly more firmly against your hips. Her gaze flicks to your lips— then back to your eyes. And she pauses.

Right there.

“…If I don’t do this now,” she murmurs, almost to herself, “I won’t.”

She closes the distance. The kiss is soft at first. Testing. But it doesn’t stay that way.

Because the second you respond— the second you don’t pull away— She exhales against you like she’s been holding that in all day.

Her grip steadies. Not tight. But certain now. The kiss deepens just slightly, still gentle— still careful— But no longer hesitant.

When she pulls back, it’s slow. Reluctant.

Her forehead rests lightly against yours. “…I’ve been thinking about that all day,” she admits softly.

You let out a small breath. “Yeah?”

She nods. “…I wanted to do it earlier.”

“What stopped you?”

A faint, almost shy smile. “…You matter too much to do it wrong.” Her hands shift slightly at your hips— still there— still grounding herself through you.

A quiet moment passes. Then— “…Can I do that again?” she asks.

You blink, then laugh softly. “You really like asking first, huh?”

She tilts her head slightly. “I like knowing you’ll say yes.”

That makes your heart flip. So you nod again. “…Yeah.”

And this time— She doesn’t hesitate.

Because now she knows— You’re not going anywhere. And neither is she.