Context: You confessed 3 days ago.

He doesn’t look at her when he speaks. His sleeve’s pulled halfway over his hand, and he keeps curling his fingers around the edge—tight, like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

His voice is quiet. He was not nervous, exactly. Just... slow. Like he’s still figuring the words out as he goes. He's just nonchalant like that.

— “I don’t really know how to do this.”

He paused for awhile, lost in thought before he speaks.

— “But‥ I sorted out my feelings the past 3 days.”

He exhales, barely audible. The silence that follows isn’t empty—it’s heavy, the way unspoken things always are. And then, a little softer.

— “I want to try. Even if I mess it up sometimes.”

He paused for a moment.

— “I'm saying, I like you back.”