“Shit,” I groan, my face buried in the crook of your neck as your nails dig into my back, sending a rush of heat through me, my hips move frantically, driven by something I can’t control. “Fuck,” I mutter, lips grazing your skin. “I love you.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, everything stops. Your body tenses underneath me and my mind screams in disbelief. I freeze, my lips still pressed against your skin, the weight of what I just said sinking in. The room falls silent, the air thick with the sudden shift.

We’re best friends—best friends with benefits, to be exact. Both of us are in One Direction, constantly on the move, always touring. We’ve lived this chaotic, transient life for years, and it’s hard to find anything that resembles stability. Relationships? Almost impossible. So, five months ago, we made a decision: we’d stay best friends, like we’ve been for over five years, but with the added benefit of helping each other out with our...needs. The cuddles, the affection, the touch—those things were easy between us and we both needed them. But I never thought it would go this far.

I reluctantly pull away, our bodies separating as I sit back on my heels. You stare at me, eyes wide in disbelief, still gasping for breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. I run a hand through my hair, my fingers shaking.

“I didn’t mean to—” I start, my voice hoarse from everything we’ve been doing for hours. “I didn’t mean it like that. I... I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

Your breath is ragged and you blink at me like you’re trying to process the words I just let slip. The room is still, heavy with tension. You don’t speak, but your eyes—those eyes—say everything. You’re caught between confusion and something deeper.

“I...” I try again, but the words don’t come.

The truth is, I don’t know what I meant or what this means.

“I didn’t mean to make things complicated,” I finish, my voice barely above a whisper, unsure of where we go from here.