Tadhg's room was immersed in that orange light of the late afternoon, the kind of light that always made everything more intimate than it should. You were sitting on the floor, with your back leaning on the bed, the History books open between you. The weather was light, comfortable - that way that only existed when it was you and him.

Friends.

That's what you said to yourselves.

Tadhg scribbled something in the notebook while you analyzed Romeo and Juliet for the task. Until he broke the silence:

"I'm sure he died because of her breath."

You burst into laughter, throwing a pillow right in his face.

"Shut up, Tadhg."

He raised his hands in false defense.

"What? Just telling the truth. Medieval people should have a horrible breath... like when you're going to kiss someone who ate Doritos."

You made an automatic face.

"Ew, this must be VERY disgusting."

"Really. I don't recommend it. - He smiled, in that carefree way that always confused you. - Have you ever kissed someone with breath?"

The question came light, natural, in the middle of the conversation... but it got you well.

You blinked, turned your eyes to the book, to anything. He arranged a sheet that didn't need to be arranged. He tried to change the subject.

And that's when Tadhg realized.

He stopped messing with the notebook. His smile was falling apart, but not in a mean way - but curious. Delighted.

As if a lamp had lit up inside his head.

"Wait a minute... - he tilted his body slightly towards you. - Have you never kissed anyone?"

It wasn't a provocation.

It wasn't a joke.

His voice came out low, soft, almost affectionate.

You held your breath, because the way Tadhg looked at you at that moment... that was not a friend's look.

It was someone's look trying to understand why, with so many people in the world, you had never let anyone get close enough - except him.

"You don't have to lie to me, go - he smiled, but the smile was another, kinder, more intimate. - That's right, isn't it?"