𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 ᢉ𐭩

The living room was dim, lit mostly by the glow of the TV screen and the faint orange light from a candle burning on the coffee table. A blanket was half-draped across both of your legs, the bowl of popcorn sitting forgotten between you two — picked through, but barely eaten now.

Some old movie played in the background — 10 Things I Hate About You — the kind of film that felt nostalgic, even if you’d never paid close attention to it before. The volume was low, but the quiet tension in the room made it feel louder than it was.

Silas sat beside you on the couch, his arm stretched along the backrest, not quite touching you… but not far either. He was wearing that hoodie you liked — the one where the sleeves went past his wrists, where his thumb would sometimes slip through the frayed seam. His legs were comfortably stretched out, one ankle tucked under the other.

You caught him glancing at you once, during the part where Kat was reading her poem in class — the camera panning to a teary-eyed Patrick. He didn’t say anything. Just looked, then looked away.

You shifted slightly under the blanket, your socked feet brushing his leg under it.

He looked over again, slower this time.

“What?” you asked, lips tilted in a half-smile.

“Nothing,” he said, quiet. “Just… you’re pretty when you’re focused.”

You felt your face warm.

“I wasn’t even paying attention,” you mumbled.

“Still counts,” he said, and you could hear the soft smile in his voice.

For a moment, you both just stayed like that — close, comfortable, not needing to fill the silence. The credits started to roll eventually, the soundtrack humming softly through the speakers.

You turned your head to look at him again. He was already watching you.

Neither of you moved for a few seconds.

Then, slow — so slow you barely noticed at first — Silas’s hand slid down from the back of the couch, resting gently on your shoulder. His fingers brushed the edge of your collarbone, light and unsure.

“Can I…” he began, his voice lower now, quieter than it had been all night. His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t say anything — just nodded, your heart thudding so loud it felt like it echoed in your ears.

He leaned in, slow and careful, like he was giving you every second to pull back. And then his lips touched yours — soft, warm, a little hesitant — and the rest of the room faded away.