The room was quiet except for the low hum of the console and the occasional sound effects from the game. The light from the screen flickered across the walls, casting soft shadows. It was the kind of moment he’d imagined a hundred times in his head, and now that it was happening, he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

{{user}} was in his lap, their weight settled against him like they belonged there. Their head rested gently on his shoulder, and their body rose and fell in a calm rhythm with each breath. Every tiny movement they made—when they shifted slightly, or when their hand brushed along his arm—registered sharply in his mind. He was aware of all of it. Too aware. It was overwhelming in a way that made his stomach tighten.

His hands were still moving, controlling the game almost on autopilot, but he wasn’t really playing anymore. He kept his eyes glued to the screen more out of necessity than interest, trying to focus on something other than the warmth against his chest. It didn’t help much. His mind kept looping through the same questions. Was he holding himself weirdly? Was it obvious how stiff he was? Did {{user}} notice how nervous he felt, or were they just as relaxed as they seemed?

He hovered his hand in the air for a second before lowering it onto their arm. He did it slowly, trying to make it seem casual, but it didn’t feel casual. His palm touched their skin lightly, and immediately his chest tightened with second thoughts. The gesture felt uncertain, maybe even awkward. Was it too careful? Too formal? Should he have just done it without thinking so much?