“what do you wanna watch?” nat asks, flicking through the channels with her remote.

she sees you pull your knees up on her well-loved couch, blinking a little before responding.

“i don’t mind. you pick.”

nat hums thoughtfully— she lets you fiddle and fidget with the silver metal rings on her left fingers while she flicks through potential shows and movies with her right.

randomly, nat picks a movie and tosses the remote to the side, leaning back.

“this okay?” she asks, her hand twitching a little in your lap. she wants to touch. but she can’t, right? you’re.. friends, or whatever.

“it’s fine,” you reply, and nat knows you’re too invested in whatever the screen is playing to respond properly. nat is the opposite— she can’t focus on the stupid movie at all.

when you stop fidgeting so much, nat’s thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, fingers lacing with yours.