The discussion had been ugly. Nothing serious - just two people too intense, trying not to hurt themselves, but making mistakes on the way.

Now you were sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms crossed, and he was standing in the corner of the room, taking a deep breath.

“You always do that,” you said. “When you feel too much, you push me.”

Harris ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “I know. I just... I don’t know how to be light.”

“I don’t want it light. I want you.”

He looked at you with that mixture of anger at himself and fear of losing you.

“You stay even when I move away,” he murmured, approaching slowly. “Why?”

You held his shirt, pulling him close.

“Because you’re worth the risk.”

This time, the kiss was more urgent. More full of everything he tried to hide. And in that messy room, between crumpled sheets and words that were still missing, you met again.