chloe’s sprawled out on her bed, flipping through one of her old cds, cigarette balanced between her fingers. the dim glow of her fairy lights makes the whole room feel warmer, hazier, like time moves slower in here.

you’re standing by her desk, shifting on your feet, watching her, thinking. chloe isn’t exactly the touchy type—not unless she’s roughhousing or draping herself over you in a way that’s more teasing than tender. but tonight, you’re tired, and the weight in your chest feels heavier than usual.

"hey, chlo?"

she glances up at you, eyebrows raising. "what’s up?"

you hesitate, suddenly feeling a little dumb, but then chloe sits up properly, patting the space beside her. "c’mere," she says, like she already knows. like she doesn’t need you to ask.

you don’t waste another second. you climb into bed, pressing yourself against her side, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. her arm comes around you, a little stiff at first, but then she relaxes, pulling you in properly.

"this what you wanted?" her voice is softer now, quieter.