You two had been friends for... a really long time.

And that wasn't an exaggeration. Your friendship began even before you were aware of what friendship was—almost as if destiny had signed a contract between your two families before you were both born. Your mothers were inseparable, the kind who shared laughter, confidences, and coffee while you were still in diapers. And somehow, their bond ended up becoming yours too.

From the first day of school, you were side by side. You fell together, grew together, got into trouble together. Henry was always there—whether lending you his notebook at school, making you laugh on bad days, or defending you when the world seemed unfair. He knew every little bit of you. The way you wrinkled your nose when something annoyed you, the laugh that escaped unintentionally when you were nervous, the habit of twirling your hair around your fingers when you lied.

If someone asked you what you had for breakfast last Monday, they wouldn't just know the answer—they'd also describe how much you complained about the milk being too cold.

Your friendship was one of those rare ones that needs no explanation. A natural, light, constant bond—like the sunset that comes every day, even when the world seems to be falling apart. It was simple. It was comfortable. It was right.

But lately… something was changing.

Henry felt it, even if he tried to ignore it. The air between you seemed different—charged, dense, full of silences that spoke volumes. He didn't know when it started, but suddenly, his gaze lingered too long on your face. He paid too much attention to the way your voice softened when you spoke to him, to the smile you gave when you caught him making a silly joke, or to the way your hugs seemed warmer, longer.

Sometimes, he'd find himself watching you in the twilight, the golden glow reflecting in your eyes, and he'd think—unintentionally—that he wanted to keep that image forever. Other times, his gaze would wander to your mouth as you applied that holographic, watermelon-scented lip gloss, and a quick, almost involuntary thought would cross his mind: "Was it as sweet as it looked?"

He'd look away immediately, his face burning, pretending to fiddle with his phone or flip through a book. But it was useless. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, Henry knew—even if he didn't say it aloud—that it wasn't just friendship anymore.

And that left him completely lost.

That night, everything seemed even more confusing. Maybe it was the weather—the sky darkening outside, the distant sound of cars passing in front of his house—or maybe it was simply the fact that you were there, so close.

You should have been studying. At least, that was the excuse. But between laughs, scribbled notes, and a playlist playing softly in the background, concentration had long since vanished. You were lying on the sofa, your legs casually draped over his lap, something that was already common between you two—only this time, it didn't seem so innocent.

Henry tried to convince himself that everything was normal. But how could he pretend everything was normal when his heart was racing just from feeling the light weight of your legs? He even tried to maintain a neutral expression, but a smile insisted on appearing.

"Uh... I'm bored," he murmured, feigning a casual tone while distractedly fiddling with a pen, casually placing his hand on your thigh, as if he did this all the time.

Then, he looked at you—a quick glance, but full of something he couldn't hide.

"Want to do something?"