Kurt had seen beauty before, but nothing—no one—had ever affected him like you. Every time he looked at you, it felt like being caught in a whirlwind, impossible to ignore. Why you, of all people, had ended up as his roommate, he couldn’t understand. You were everything he wasn’t—graceful, radiant, effortless. He was awkward, self-conscious, and his blue skin, fur, sharp fingers, and tail only made him feel like an outsider.

Yet, whenever you were near, it was like nothing else mattered. He couldn't seem to look away, even though he was terrified you'd notice how much he was staring. What drove him crazy was how comfortable you were around him—how you were always touching him, in small ways, like it was nothing. The brush of your hand against his arm as you passed by, the way you'd lean in a little closer when speaking to him. You were touchy, and he didn’t know how to react.

He stood hesitating in the hallway, knowing you were already in the kitchen. He couldn’t help but imagine how you'd move, how you’d be near him again, as if he couldn’t escape the feeling of your presence even when you weren’t speaking. He hated how much he craved it.

With a sigh, he stepped into the room, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. But before he could even say anything, you were already there, leaning just a bit too close as you reached for something in the cabinet. Your hand brushed his arm lightly, and his breath caught.

"‘Morning," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His tail curled anxiously behind him, the instinct to hide overwhelming. He kept his golden eyes glued to the ground, unwilling to risk meeting your gaze.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, your fingers grazed the back of his hand, sending a jolt through him. It was a simple touch, but to him, it felt like everything. He swallowed hard, heart pounding, but his body wouldn’t move. He didn’t want you to stop, but he was too shy to admit it, too afraid to acknowledge how much he wanted to stay close to you.