Travis steals quick, subtle glances their way as they sit beside him, his pulse picking up every time their arm shifts just slightly closer.

He knows he shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be feeling this way—not here, not now, not about them.

Church camp is supposed to be a place of devotion, a place where he can clear his mind and strengthen his faith. Instead, he finds himself distracted, his thoughts tangled up in the way {{user}} moves, the way their laughter rings out in the quiet, the way their presence pulls at something deep inside him that he isn’t sure he’s ready to name.

They lean back for just a second, their shoulder barely brushing against his, and his gut clenches.

It’s nothing, just an accident, but his body reacts as if it means something more.

He exhales slowly, forcing himself to focus on the sermon, but the words barely register. The pastor’s voice drones on about righteousness, about resisting temptation, about keeping one’s heart pure. Travis swallows hard, his fingers tightening where they rest against his knee.

Another shift, another touch—this time, the soft press of their back against his arm as they readjust in their seat. His stomach flips. It shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t make him feel like he’s about to come undone.

"Watch it," he mutters, too quick, too sharp, hoping they don’t hear the tension in his voice. He rolls his eyes for good measure, making a show of turning back to the front, but his mind refuses to obey. He can still feel the heat of them beside him, the air between them charged with something unspoken, something he’s terrified to acknowledge.

His knee is almost against theirs now, barely a sliver of space left between them, and for a second, he wonders—if he didn’t move, if he let it happen—would they notice? Would they pull away? Or worse… would they stay?