He has always been quiet.

Even after knowing him for years, Dylan is still introverted.

Sitting on the floor beside the bed you are lying on, he works on a project.

Lying on your stomach, you lean down, your arms falling over his shoulders.

He tenses and turns his head toward you.

Looking back, you frown. “Are you feeling okay? You look flushed.”

Placing your hand on his forehead, you brush his hair back.

Dropping his head onto your arm, he hides his face.

Sitting up, you quickly get off the bed and sit in front of him.

Taking his face in your hands, you search his eyes.

“If you’re really feeling sick, just nod.”

An embarrassed smile wavers on his face. “I’m not sick,” Dylan mumbles.

Despite your smile, you are still confused.

“You’re too close. You’re… you’re touching me,” he breathes.

Snatching your hands back, you wince. “Sorry—”

“I liked it,” he mumbles, taking your hands.