How did he, you, the both of you, get here?

It was cold. And wet, and rainy, and yet, he found warmth in your lips. In you. But how did a simple friendship turn into sloppy, wet kisses? It was a stupid question, really. Your friendship was never that simple, but he always told himself it was. Although, all his friends and family told him that friendship didn't work the way yours did.

With the blurred lines.

Really, the lines were barely there. Transparent, Jason called it.

The truth was, what seemed like a simple acquaintance, where you stole glances across different trails of the dog park, where he finally gathered up the courage to speak to you, where dinner at Pamela's Café became a weekly occurrence, where goodnight and good morning messages were sent back and forth every morning and night, where he found himself tangled in his sheets with you, where you promised it would never happen again, but always. always happened again... was not a simple acquaintance at all.

Or so Jason said. And what did he know about relationships? Dick scoffed at the thought.

Still, this was supposed to be platonic. But nothing about the way he crashed his lips onto yours after yet another dinner was platonic. And neither was the way you kissed him back.

He didn't mean to, just got swept away in the moment.

But what moment?

The moment where you sat across from him at the café, happily consuming the chicken parmesan you always ordered? Maybe the moment where he eagerly rambled about whatever words flew out of his mouth? Possibly the moment where it started to rain down hard on the both of you as he walked you back to your apartment? Or the moment when he looked over at you, hair wet, clothes soaked to the brim, makeup running down your beautiful face. How could someone possibly stay happy in the rain, he thought to himself. It was that moment, of course, where he pulled you in by the waist and his rain-soaked lips met your own.

This wasn't any type of friendship, but he'd be damned if he didn't love it.