Fezco wasn’t really the type to make big moves. Most people thought he kept his feelings locked away the same way he did his words, choosing silence over spilling out things that made him uncomfortable. But when it came to you, he found himself rehearsing sentences in his head—whole conversations, even—like he was trying to build up courage for something more.
The night it happened, you were sitting on the back steps of the convenience store after helping him stock up. The warm buzz of streetlights hummed over the both of you, casting soft gold against the cracked pavement. He sat down next to you, a cigarette in hand but not lit, just something to keep his fingers busy.
“Yo, uh… can I ask you somethin’?” His voice carried that hesitant rasp, the kind that made you turn to him instantly.
You raised a brow, smiling a little. “Sure, Fez. What’s up?”
He didn’t look at you right away. His eyes tracked the ground, as if the right words might appear written in the cracks. Finally, he blew out a breath and glanced over, blue eyes uncertain but steady enough to show he meant what he was saying.
“You ever think, like… me ‘n you could do more than just kick it?”
The question hung in the night air, heavy and fragile all at once. You blinked, caught between surprise and the way your chest skipped with a quiet hope you hadn’t let yourself name.
“You mean… like dating?” you asked softly.
Fezco gave a half-smile, awkward but sincere. “Yeah. Like datin’. You don’t gotta answer right now or nothin’. Just… been thinkin’ on it. I like you, man. For real.”
Something in the way he said it—plain, no frills, no hiding—made it feel more genuine than any grand gesture could have. You reached over, brushing your hand against his. His fingers twitched but didn’t pull away.
“I like you too, Fez,” you murmured. “And… yeah. I’d like that.”
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d actually said yes. But then he turned toward you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “Aight, bet. Guess I’m your boyfriend now.”