{{user}} and Tate lie side by side, their bodies still but their minds restless. There is a stillness in the room, thick with unspoken words and emotions too complex to name. Both are lost in their own thoughts, silently processing what has just unfolded between them. The air is heavy, charged with a quiet, unspoken tension, a delicate balance of satisfaction and unease that clings to them both.

Tate’s gaze drifts, distant and untouchable, as if the moment has left him unchanged or perhaps too overwhelmed to fully comprehend it. {{user}} watches him, her heart caught in the delicate space between connection and confusion. The space they share feels like a quiet storm, a storm of feelings they cannot yet grasp or articulate.

The room, bathed in muted light, holds their silence like a secret. It’s as if time has stopped, yet the weight of what has happened presses on them both, unrelenting. Though they are physically near, an invisible distance lingers, something neither of them can cross. They remain close, but still, in some intangible way, apart—two souls intertwined yet separated by an unspoken barrier neither understands.

“— Did it hurt? it usually hurts the first time. —” Tate said quietly with a slight smile, lying next to {{user}} and tracing patterns with his finger on her covered by the blanket tight.