It was too late to be there. You knew that, and so did Johnny. The Kavanagh house was bathed in a quiet so complete it felt almost unnatural, broken only by the faint, static hum of the television left on mute. The world outside seemed to have folded in on itself, leaving only shadows in the corners and the soft creak of the house settling. Everyone else had already gone to sleep—or at least, that’s what you assumed.

You found yourself on the floor of his room, back against the side of the undone bed. Your knees were nearly touching, but not quite—just a sliver of space, a thin line that seemed impossibly vast. The air between you was taut, charged, and fragile, like the pause before a storm breaks.

Johnny’s gaze settled on you with a weight that made your chest tighten. It was as if the world itself had stilled, holding its breath, waiting. His dark blue eyes, usually sharp and bright, were softened into something tender. Vulnerable. And in that softness, you recognized the silent question that had been lingering in every glance, every laugh, every shared secret.

You looked down, almost ashamed to meet him, focusing on your own hands—resting nervously in your lap, fingers fidgeting. That’s when his voice came, low and cautious, like he was afraid even the sound of it might shatter the moment:

“Please… please let me kiss you?”

The words hovered in the room, delicate but heavy, trembling with urgency and care. You could hear the weight of restraint in them, the patient holding-back of something he’d kept buried far too long.

Your heart began to race, echoing loud in your ears. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. Johnny didn’t move closer. He didn’t cross the invisible line. He simply waited, quiet, contained, letting the question breathe and live between you.

And in that space, the realization hit: this wasn’t just about a kiss. It was every unspoken word, every gesture left unsent, every glance that lingered just a second too long. It was all the things he had carried silently—things too important to risk until now.

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in with the weight of possibility. Time itself slowed, stretching out the moment until it felt like the whole world rested on the edge of that single, fragile choice.

It was the moment when everything could change. And for the first time, you understood just how much you wanted it to.