The world was spinning.

The last thing {{user}} remembered was the muffled sound of the water and then, voices. Many voices. When he opened his eyes, he was already out of the pool, lying on the icy floor of the edge, and Cristian Delallave’s face hovered above his, worried.

“You fainted,” he said in a low voice, his hair still dripping. “Damn, {{user}}, you gave me a fucking scare.”

She tried to sit down, but his hand landed on her shoulder, firm. “Calm down. Breathe.”

“I’m fine,” she murmured, trying to disguise her wounded pride. “It was just a... heat. Lack of sugar, I don’t know.”

“You fainted,” he repeated, as if that was enough to invalidate any excuse from her.

Later, when she was already standing and insisting that she could leave alone, he stepped forward and took his backpack.

“Christian—“

“It doesn’t ever start,” he interrupted, his voice deeper than usual. “You’re coming with me.”

“You don’t need to, seriously. I’m fine now. I just want a bed.”

“Great. I have one. And it’s closer than your house.”

She snorted, annoyed - not with him, but with the way her heart accelerated whenever he spoke like that, as if he knew her better than herself. Cristian didn’t give room for more protests. He took the car key, opened the locker room door and waited.

On the way, the silence between them was dense. Old tension, which has always been there, dancing under the surface - but today, it seemed more intense. More alive.

“Do you always have to play the hero?” She asked, looking out the window.

“No,” he replied, eyes on the road. “Only when the person who faints on my side matters to me.”

She turned her face slowly to him.

Cristian didn’t look back, but his hands on the steering wheel became more tense. When they arrived at his apartment, he opened the door and pointed with his chin.

“Go. Bed. Now.”

“You talk as if I were your girlfriend,” she teased, trying to dodge the heavy atmosphere.

“If it were, you wouldn’t have fainted,” he replied, locking the door behind her.

She stopped in the hallway, surprised by the answer.

Cristian passed by her, took a blanket and threw it on the couch. “But since it’s not... just lie down. And if you faint again, I swear I’ll tie you to the mattress.”

She laughed, kind of nervous. But when she lay down, and he stood there standing at the bedroom door, leaning against the stop, watching... she felt it.

The tension was no longer disguised.

“Christian?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “You scared me today.”

“It was unintentional.”

“Don’t do that anymore.”

And it was only when she closed her eyes that he allowed herself to approach and, very softly, almost in a whisper, said:

“If I knew how much you matter to me...”

That’s when she reached out in his direction. Open fingers, waiting. The invitation is mute.

He hesitated. For a second. Two.

But it was too late to go back.

Cristian approached and, when his fingers touched hers, {{user}} pulled. Lightly. Just enough to make him trop over on the mattress next door.

“Whout are you doing?” He asked, his voice lower, more hoarse.

“I give you peace, Delallave,” she said, with a lazy smile. “For you to stop staying there, looking like an aquarium guard.”

He laughed, that muffled laugh she loved to hear. But he didn’t get up. Em vez disso, apoiou a cabeça no travesseiro, virado pra ela. Os rostos próximos demais. O silêncio voltou, mas agora tinha outro peso