The pillow fight had started as a way to kill time past curfew, a distraction to break the monotony. They’d bashed pillows at each other, laughing, letting the softness of the moment in. Somewhere between the flurry of laughter and flying cushions though, the air had shifted..

Neil’s heart pounded in his chest, but now it wasn’t from the exertion. He found himself on his back, wrists trapped beneath {{user}}’s grip, pinned to the bed. Adrenaline and something familiar too well rooted in his stomach.

{{user}} was sitting on top of him now, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Neil’s hips, their bodies so close it was almost suffocating. He could feel {{user}}’s chest, the subtle rhythm of his breathing. Hell, he could feel the heated breaths against his skin. The room, once a chaotic tangle of laughter and playful swats, now felt like it was closing in, heavy and thick with a quiet that seemed too loud.

“Are you.. going to keep pretending?” {{user}} asks below his breath.

His chest tightened when {{user}} leaned forward, their faces inches apart. Neil's thoughts scattered at the question.

{{user}}‘s eyes flickered to Neil’s lips, a faint, unreadable smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Neil’s mouth went dry, and he had to force himself to look up, to not just succumb to whatever it was building between them.

The tension was malleable, unrelenting. Neil tried to find his voice, “I… I don’t know,” he finally muttered, the words tumbling out without a second thought.