Liam’s house is quiet, too quiet. His mom and stepdad are out, leaving the two of you in the living room, sprawled on the floor in front of the TV.

It’s the fifth time you’ve lost to him in a row.

Liam smirks, smug and completely unapologetic. His fingers drum against the controller, the picture of ease while you simmer with frustration.

You’re convinced he’s cheating—supernatural reflexes giving him an unfair advantage. You don’t think. You just move. With a burst of determination, you lunge at him, fingers aiming for his sides in a last-ditch attempt to throw him off. He barely flinches before reacting—quicker, stronger, pinning you beneath him in seconds.

Your breath catches.

His hands trap yours on either side of your head, his weight keeping you still. His heartbeat—steady, strong—thunders just beneath the surface, but it’s his eyes that catch you off guard. There’s something different there, something softer, something unreadable.

Neither of you speaks, and for a second, the only sound is the distant hum of the game still playing in the background. Then, with a voice quieter than before he asks, “Stay the night?” A silent plea in his eyes. Because lately, sleep hasn’t come easy for him. And tonight, maybe, he just doesn’t want to be alone.