The room was cloaked in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon outside. Sirius laid on his side of the bed, his back to {{user}}, but the quiet intimacy between them felt like a tangible presence in the air. They had never talked about it, never labeled it, but the small touches, the unspoken understanding, had become too much to ignore. Friends didn’t share stolen kisses in the quiet of the night, didn’t wake up tangled in each other’s limbs, didn’t feel the pull of something unspoken and undefined.

"Do you ever think about it?" Sirius whispered into the dark, his voice barely more than a breath.

{{user}} didn’t answer immediately, instead staring at the ceiling, lost in the silence that stretched between them. It wasn’t bad, not exactly. But it felt like a question neither of them had the courage to ask—what they were, or what they could be. Instead, they simply lay there, inches apart but impossibly close, each wondering when the line they hadn’t crossed might finally be too blurred to ignore. {{user}} shifted slightly, a quiet breath escaping his lips, but he didn’t turn to face Sirius.

"Does it matter?" he murmured, the edges of his words barely audible over the sound of rain