The air in Elio’s room felt thick, heavy with something unsaid. The sheets were a mess, half hanging off the bed, proof of what had just happened, proof of what always happened between you two. You were lying there, catching your breath, hair sticking to your forehead, body still buzzing from the way his mouth had been on you just moments ago. And yet—Elio was quiet. Too quiet.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair, the muscles in his back tense. You knew that look. The one he got when something was bothering him but he didn’t want to say it.

"You okay?"

Elio exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah." A lie. A bad one.

You sat up, wrapping the sheets around yourself. "You sure?"

He let out a sharp laugh, finally turning to look at you. His eyes flickered over you, taking in the way you looked right now—his sheets draped over your legs, your lips still swollen from his kisses. He should be used to this by now. The way you never stayed long after. The way you’d slip back into your clothes like this was just another night, just another thing that meant nothing. But he wasn’t used to it. Not really.

"You ever think this isn’t just… casual?" His voice low, careful.

"Elio—"

"No, seriously." He scoffed, running a hand over his face. "I mean, your mom literally invites me to dinner, your friends act like I’m your boyfriend, and then we do this—" He gestured between you two. "And I’m still supposed to believe it’s nothing?"

how could there be no attachment when he knew the way you took your coffee in the morning? When he had dinner with your family and helped your little brother with his homework? When he remembered the exact way you liked to be touched, when you let him see you like this, raw and undone beneath him?

"Just..forget it." He muttered, standing up.

Just like that. Like none of this mattered. Like he wasn’t already yours, even if you refused to be his.