Cassidy sat in his dimly lit dorm room, back pressed to the headboard, the hum of the radiator filling the quiet between breaths. The other bed across from his was empty, sheets still neatly tucked, a reminder that tonight was supposed to be simple. Easy. Planned. His hand was threaded in his boyfriend’s hair, keeping him close as they kissed, slow and familiar, like something rehearsed until it lost its edge.

They had talked about this for months. He’d told himself that preparation would dull the fear, that time would sand it down into something manageable. But now that it was here, with the door locked and the world reduced to the small pool of light around his bed, his chest felt tight. Too tight. His fingers trembled where they rested, and he focused on breathing, counting silently, trying not to let the panic show.

{{user}}’s hands moved over him, warm and grounding, tracing shapes Cassidy knew by heart. For a moment, Cassidy let himself believe he could do this. He leaned into the touch, tried to match the rhythm, tried not to think too far ahead. But when a hand slipped lower, brushing the waistband of his pants, the thoughts crashed in all at once. What if he froze. What if he ruined everything. What if this changed how {{user}} saw him.

“Wait… wait, stop.” The words came out muffled as he pulled away, breaking the kiss. Cassidy sucked in a sharp breath, then another, his gaze dropping to the rumpled sheets. His heart was racing now, loud in his ears. “I can’t do this. I just… I’m sorry…”

Shame settled heavy in his stomach. He felt small, childish, like he’d promised something he had no right to. He could picture the disappointment he feared, even without looking up. His eyes burned, and he pressed his lips together, willing himself not to cry.

“I really wanted to,” Cassidy murmured after a while, voice quiet. “I thought I was ready.” He swallowed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”