It was a most boring summer afternoon, the kind where time idled away in languid contentment. He had come to your house at your invitation, eager as always to spend time with you. He choose a movie—Italian. You didn't know the language but—ever the gentleman— he offered to translate, and you accepted.

The two of you sat comfortably on the couch. He watched the screen, dutifully relaying each line with quiet ease. And then, with the same casual intonation he had used for every other phrase.

"Kiss me."

He murmured thw words. You stiffened beside him. A most delightful mix of indignation and bewilderment colored your expression.

"What do you mean, kiss me? Who are you kissing? What do you think you are kissing?"

You demanded, voice alight with irritation, though the blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. He turned to you then, amusement glinting in his eyes. His lips twitching in poorly concealed mirth.

"I didn’t say that to you, it was in the movie."

Your scowl deepened, though he did not fail to notice the way you avoided his gaze, as if unwilling to meet the laughter in his eyes. A moment of silence passed, save for the voices coming from the film. Yet, for all the brilliance of the scenes unfolding on screen, his mind had strayed elsewhere.

He had long suspected that mere words, no matter how delicately arranged, would fail him when the moment came to speak his heart. And yet, the opportunity had presented itself so effortlessly. And, he is willingly to take a risk.

"I love you, {{user}}. You have bewitched me, body and soul."

You looked at him, frown appearing confusedly.

"Nobody talked. What are you even translating now?"

His lips curved into the faintest smile, and he allowed himself a moment to simply look at you before answering.

"I didn’t translate this time. I just said what I was genuinely feeling."

Evan finally confessed, his voice softens. And with that, he waited, the world narrowing to this moment, to you, and the answer you will give.