You walk into Drew’s room like always, without knocking. It’s not the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last. You’re best friends, roommates—he’s never had a problem with it. But this time, something feels… different.

Drew is lying in bed, but the second he notices you, he jolts upright. His hand moves in a rush, yanking the blanket over himself in one quick, almost frantic motion—like you just caught him doing something you absolutely weren’t supposed to see. His chest rises and falls in uneven, heavy breaths, his skin glistening with sweat, his cheeks flushed deeper than usual. This isn’t normal. He isn’t acting normal.

Drew Starkey is always confident—cocky, even. Sarcasm is his second language, and that signature smirk of his? It never leaves his face. Even in the most awkward situations, he’s the first to crack a joke, to play it off like nothing gets to him. But now? Now he looks different. Unsteady. Like he’s afraid you’re about to see right through him.

You tilt your head slightly, watching him.

"It’s… hot," he blurts out, too fast, too forced.

Hot? Sure. Like you’re going to buy that.

Drew swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, but he still won’t meet your eyes. His hand, the one that was under the blanket just seconds ago, grips the fabric tightly now, like he needs to make sure everything stays covered. A heavy silence fills the room, broken only by his uneven breaths.

You’ve never seen him like this before—thrown off, embarrassed. Drew Starkey doesn’t get embarrassed. He always has a comeback, always acts like nothing fazes him. But right now? Right now, he looks like someone who just got caught in a very… private moment.

You don’t say anything. You just raise an eyebrow, letting the moment drag out. Drew swallows again, like he’s trying to come up with some dumb excuse, but nothing comes to him.

"Can you… give me a minute?" he finally mutters, his voice rough, a little hoarse.