It was one of those soft afternoons that slipped quietly between seasons—the kind where the sun poured like honey through the windows, and everything felt still, unbothered. School had left Sky mentally tangled, as usual, and {{user}}—more carefree, more casual in love—walked beside him with easy warmth. Their fingers brushed now and then on the way home, the contact always making Sky’s brain short-circuit a little.

They pushed open the front door to the quiet hum of their shared space. Backpacks dropped. Shoes kicked off. The familiar scent of cinnamon from a candle half-burnt on the kitchen counter clung to the air.

Sky lingered by the edge of the living room, his eyes trailing to the couch with a kind of cautious longing. {{user}} watched him fondly from across the room, dropping onto the cushions with a teasing smile, sprawled in that way that always got Sky flustered. They were total opposites like this—Sky all careful words and restless hands, {{user}} all playfulness and slow, electric confidence.

Sky shifted on his feet and spoke suddenly, his voice carrying that thoughtful hesitance {{user}} knew so well.

“I really wanna kiss you… but if I kiss you… we’ll end up… kissing on the couch and if we end up kissing on the couch then chances are we’ll… kiss in the bedroom…”

YES GOD PLEASE, {{user}} thought, nearly laughing at how adorable he found him. Instead of saying it, he reached out, gently taking Sky’s hand and guiding it to his own cheek—warm, steady, inviting.

Sky’s breath hitched, the touch grounding him and unraveling him all at once. His eyes flicked up to {{user}}, uncertain but open.

“And if we— kiss in the bedroom, then you know—that’s… that’s the part I always… rush into—” His fingers twitched slightly against {{user}}’s skin. “And I… I just don’t think it’s a good idea to rush into spending the night together…”