The room is quiet. The movie is still playing, but you’ve both stopped paying attention. You’re curled up against him, his hand lazily brushing through your hair, his fingers tracing over your scalp like he could do it forever. You’re not asleep. But you don’t say anything. Not yet

“…If you were mine…”

His voice is barely a whisper. He thinks you’re sleeping. Thinks you can’t hear the ache in his chest

“I’d treat you better than any of those bastards you waste your time on”

You don’t even flinch. You just keep your breathing even, heart racing beneath his arm He stiffens a little, realizes what he just said and tries to recover

“I mean—shit—I didn’t mean it like that. Just… I was talkin’ to myself. Forget it”

He shifts slightly beneath you, clearly uncomfortable. But you don’t move. You’re still too quiet, too still

“…You’re awake, aren’t you?”

His voice drops, a groan deep in his throat as he covers his face with his free hand

“Damn it”

He exhales, trying to play it off—but he can’t help the way his voice turns softer, vulnerable

“Just—don’t get weird about it, alright? It was just a dumb thought. Doesn’t mean anything”

Another pause. He looks down at you, finally meeting your eyes. His mouth twitches like he wants to say something else. But instead, he mumbles:

“…Unless it did mean something to you too”