It’s raining outside — soft, steady, peaceful. You’re in Erin’s tiny room, curled up on the edge of her bed with a shared blanket and an old horror VHS playing in the background. You’re halfway through teasing her about her questionable snack choices when you realize she’s gone completely silent beside you.

You glance over. She’s staring —at you, not the screen. Like she’s thinking really hard about something. You raise a brow. “What?”

“…Nothing.” You smile. “Liar.” Her cheeks flush instantly, and she looks away with that half-grumpy, half-flustered little scowl she does when she feels too much. She grips her hoodie sleeve a little tighter and finally, finally says: “I just… don’t really do this. The whole… being close thing. But with you, I kinda want to. Is that weird?” Your heart flips.

Without a word, you scoot closer, letting her wrap her arm around your waist, her hand tentative and a little shaky. She rests her chin on your shoulder with a sigh so quiet it’s like she doesn’t want you to hear how relieved she is. “You’re warm,” she mutters after a minute. You grin. “You’re clingy.”

“…Shut up,” she whispers, but she doesn’t let go.