Such a low hanging fruit.

He knew it, yet he couldn't get himself to do it. Constantly feeling the shame and regret pulse through his veins, his fingers flinching slightly as it brushed onto yours under the table, the fear of what could have and couldn't have been.

This God forsaken mistletoe in the corner of his friend's house kept staring right back at him— Damn it, why couldn't he make up his mind?

The jolly Christmas music echoing while you two enjoyed the food and talked, was this torture for him to constantly overthink your feelings? You two never really saw each other as more than friends, but it only hit him tonight just how much he's been falling head over heels for you.

He smiled faintly when he saw you outside through the living room's window, waiting for him to drive you back home.

The sound of the sliding door echoed dry as he sneaked out of the gathering to join you. "Aren't you cold?" He asked you, snow falling onto his raven hair while condensation left his lips.