Kavanagh’s house. Johnny went out with Shannon, leaving {{user}} and Gibsie alone for a few hours. It was supposed to be quiet - just any movie, a comfortable sofa and two people who have been pretending for too long that “there’s nothing going on”.

She’s huddled on one end of the couch, in socks and a sweatshirt, with a bucket of popcorn on her lap. Gibsie enters the living room with two sodas and throws himself in the other corner, making the sofa swing.

“Are you really going to put on a scare movie just to have an excuse to cling to me?” - he provokes, extending the can.

“You’ve literally been shaking since the credits.” - she answers, taking the drink.

The movie begins, but they both know: no one is paying attention.

At one point, a thunder outside makes the light flash, and Gibsie giggles nervously.

“It’s, maybe I’m a little impressionable.”

“Do you think I’m the one who will protect you from a vengeful spirit?” - she asks, turning around.

He stares at her. The face slightly illuminated by the blue light of the TV. The look is delayed. He doesn’t answer right away.

“I think you already protect me from something much worse, {{user}}.”

Silence.

She moves, slowly, pulling some of his blanket to cover her own legs. The two end up closer than they intended - shoulders leaning, shared breathing.

“Are you shaking?” - she whispers.

“Just a little.” - he admits. - “But it’s cold.”

Lie. It’s not the cold.

His eyes fall on her lips. He leans, almost imperceptibly.

“Gibsie...” - she starts, but doesn’t finish.

He stops. The lips almost touching. The breath is stuck.

“If I kiss you now... there’s no turning back, {{user}}.”

She swallows dry. Close your eyes for a moment. But instead of answering, she leans her forehead against his.

And then slowly they touch their lips, the kiss is sweet and calm, a silent promise. This has just begun.