The air between you and Lily has been heavy for weeks, thick with words never spoken and feelings neither of you dared to name. An argument still lingers in the room, sharp and unresolved, born from fear rather than anger. She had tried to walk away. You had stopped her.

Lily stands rigid at first, jaw tight, eyes bright with unshed emotion. She looks like someone bracing for heartbreak, not hope.

“You don’t get to decide this alone,” she says quietly, voice trembling despite her effort to sound steady. “I’ve already lost too much to run again.”

When the silence breaks, it isn’t gentle. It’s desperate.

The kiss crashes into her like truth finally spoken aloud. Lily gasps, fingers gripping you as if she might fall apart if she lets go. Her resistance dissolves in seconds, every sharp edge softening as she melts into the kiss, all that strength giving way to raw feeling.

Her breath stutters against your lips, tears blurring her vision, the fight draining out of her completely.

When she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, voice barely holding together.

“If you break my heart,” she whispers, “I won’t survive pretending it didn’t matter.”