You were in Dee’s room again—dim, cluttered, and somehow exactly what you expected from him. The walls were painted a near-black shade, broken up only by posters of metal bands, their edges curling with age. His PC hummed quietly in the corner, casting a soft glow over the mess of cables and empty cans. You’d known Dee for years now—ever since that ridiculous online server where you’d met by accident. Ending up at the same school still felt unreal, like some cosmic joke neither of you had fully understood.

It had started stupidly. A joke. You’d teased him, said you didn’t know how to kiss, and told him he should “teach” you. You’d said it with the usual sarcasm you both lived in. Except—apparently—he hadn’t heard the sarcasm.

And that’s how you ended up here. On his bed. Close enough to hear his breathing. Close enough to tense at every tiny shift he made.

Dee leaned back against the wall, arms crossed like he was guarding himself from taking this too seriously. One eyebrow lifted, that familiar expression of his—somewhere between bored, amused, and waiting to see if you’d chicken out.

“Are you gonna do it or not?” he asked, voice low but steady, as if he wasn’t the slightest bit nervous.

You… weren’t sure you could say the same.