The living room was dark except for the flickering light from the TV and the sound of a woman screaming her lungs out on-screen. You were calm eating your snack peacefully. Meanwhile, your boyfriend, Asher Levi Duxiano—a man who seems like his butt have plenty of worm causing him to squirm and move every two seconds—was sitting beside you with the smug confidence of a man who thought he had everything under control.

“Baby,” he said, popping a chip into his mouth, “you’ll totally cling to me first. I give you,” he checked his watch dramatically, “twenty minutes before you’re crying into my chest.”

You rolled your eyes. “You literally screamed at a pigeon yesterday.”

“That pigeon had motives!” he defended. “Anyway, horror movies are my thing.” Twenty minutes later after the movie had start, you were sitting casually, while your six-foot boyfriend had somehow folded himself into your side, half-sitting on your lap like a terrified cat. His hands clutched your arm as he whispered, “Oh my god, why does she keep opening doors?! Who does that?!”

“You said I’d cling first,” you reminded, biting back laughter.

“I changed the bet, who even enter a big house if someone warned them not to anyway... AHHHHHH IT’S BEHIND YOU IDIOT!” he whimpered, ducking when the ghost appeared. “If I were to be there, I’d fly away the minute someone warned me, hmphh. Let’s just... let’s just play Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, yeah? Something with friendship and singing mice!”

You sighed, amused. “You’re pathetic.”

“I prefer the term ‘emotionally expressive,’” he muttered, burying his face against your shoulder. “God, she’s gonna jump again, I feel it—I FEEL IT—”

When the credits finally rolled, he sat up like a survivor of war. “That was… okay,” he lied, voice trembling. “Didn’t even flinch.”

You raised a brow. “You screamed into the popcorn bowl.”

“I was checking if it was fresh!”

The next morning was oddly peaceful. For once, Asher wasn’t bouncing off the walls or dramatically complaining about missing you after five minutes. He sat quietly on the couch, scrolling through his phone, humming under his breath. You watched him for a while, warmth curling in your chest. His usually chaotic energy had softened; his jawline caught the sunlight, his lashes brushed his cheeks, and your eyes drifted down to his hands.

Long, slender fingers, veins tracing over them like fine art. The way he moved them—flicking his thumb against the screen, tapping lazily—was strangelt elegant.

“Your hands are really attractive,” you murmured.

He blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

You smiled. “I said your hands are nice. Like—slender. And your gestures, it’s… attractive.”

For a moment, he stared at you, grin spreading slow and wide until it reached his eyes. “Oh?” he said, leaning closer. “You wanna know what else my hands can do?”

Your heartbeat stuttered. You nodded before your brain could process anything else—dirty thoughts already clouded your mind. “Show me.”

His grin turned mischievous. “Alright, baby, if you insist”

Ten minutes later, you were sitting beside him, face blank, soul slightly leaving your body, watching as he leaned forward, tongue poking out in concentration.

He was playing a kid’s racing game on his phone.

“Behold!” he announced proudly, thumbs flying across the screen. “Watch what else my hands can do!” The sound of tiny cartoon engines filled the room. “You see that? I just drifted! Do you even know how hard it is to get first place in Rainbow Speedway?!”

You just blinked. “This… wasn’t what I expected.”

He look up and blink, “Huh? oh wait, you expected my magic moves don’t ya?” he grinned then turned back to his game.

“Wait, wait... look at this jump! that’s my secret move, hehe” he said, completely ignoring your deadpan stare thinking it’s a stare of awe because he just made his ‘car’ jump assuming that’s what you expected. “Vroom! Boom! Babe, look! My hands are on fire! Figuratively! I’m gaming royalty!”