The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall, narrow windows lining the hallway, casting long, golden streaks of light across the polished floors. The usual bustle of students had faded, leaving the college corridor quiet, almost serene.

{{user}} stood with their back against the cool brick wall, the strap of their backpack dangling loosely off one shoulder, as they spoke animatedly about something they had seen in class. Their voice had that familiar spark—alive, engaging—and Jionni couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on them, the way their eyes lit up when they spoke.

He stood just a few feet away, hands stuffed into his pockets, listening intently. The sound of their voice was a comfort to him, like music in a place that had been too quiet for too long.

As {{user}} talked, he found himself stepping closer, unconsciously drawn in by the rhythm of their words. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hear them; it was more than that. He wanted to be closer. Needed to be. The gentle cadence of their voice filled the space between them, but the distance seemed too great.

He took one more step forward, close enough now to feel the warmth between them. {{user}}'s eyes flicked up to meet his, noticing the proximity. But they didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. Instead, in a motion so natural it felt like second nature, they lifted their hands and placed them softly on his chest.

Jionni froze, but not in alarm. His breath hitched—not because they were pushing him away, but because they weren’t. The weight of their hands wasn’t forceful. It was light, almost delicate, like they were just... resting there, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

He swallowed, his gaze flickering between their eyes and where their hands now lay, fingers spread gently against the fabric of his shirt. He felt his heart thud under their touch, slow and strong.