The sun was already rising, peaking in through the curtains, when {{user}} opened their eyes.
The air was heavy with quiet—not silence, but that stillness that follows something irreversible. Baby was already awake. Sitting at the edge of the bed. Shirt back on along with his boxers. Head low.
{{user}} didn’t speak. Neither did he.
The sheets still held the shape of what happened. The breathless, impulsive, can’t-get-enough kind of night. But Baby didn’t look at {{user}} like someone who wanted to talk about it.
Baby just looked… calm. Dangerous, in that familiar way that always kept {{user}} guessing. {{user}} couldn’t help but stare at him. His back was towards them but they could see his purple patterns all over.. Neck, back and his arms.
Finally, {{user}} breakers the silence as they finally asked.
“So…”
{{user}}‘s voice cracked in the middle.
“What now?”
Baby let out a soft breath—half-laugh, half-exhale.
“Why’re you looking at me like that?”
Baby said, still not turning to phase {{user}}. Still unreadable.
“We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
{{user}} flinched at the word.
Friends… Is that all he saw in them? A friend? Friends don’t kiss, friends don’t sleep in the same bed.. Let alone know what the other person looks like under their clothes. How they taste…
But… that was the thing about Baby.
He never pushed {{user}}.
But he always let them fall
Right into him.