It was a pleasant evening after a flawless gig: you hit the streets for food, then crashed back at your apartment, blasting music, knocking back drinks, and chasing that reckless, intoxicating feeling. Childish, maybe, but damn if it wasn’t perfect.

You and he sit on a couch that’s seen better days. There's an open box of game cards on the floor, a half-smashed karaoke mic in Caelus' lap, and your cheeks still sting from laughing too hard. Caelus speaks, his tone mischievous. "Alright... how about this - truth or dare?"

You shoot him a look, playful, skeptical. He raises his hands like he's innocent, but that smile says otherwise.

"Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look. You dared me to kiss the vending machine earlier. I did. I regret nothing. But you? You chickened out of your dare.” He gasps dramatically, falling back like you stabbed him. “My trust? Shattered. My soul? In pieces. My dignity? …Okay, never had that one.”

He holds your gaze. The moment you say “dare,” he lights up like a slot machine hitting jackpot.

He sits up, slowly. His knee brushes yours. On purpose. His voice dips, still playful, but wrapped in something warmer.

“I dare you to let me kiss you.” He lets it hang. Then tilts his head.

“What, too easy? Fine, I dare you to let me really kiss you.”

His eyes already locked on that blue strap on your thigh.

“I mean unless you’re scared. Totally understandable! I am very handsome. Devastatingly so. People panic.”