“No— please stop.” Vada huffed, pushing you away with a firm hand against her shoulder. The contact was gentle, but the message was clear. You blinked, startled, a puzzled crease forming between her brows as she recoiled slightly, his expression shifting from playful to concerned. “What? Why?” You asked, voice quieter now, tinged with something between hurt and disbelief. His mouth parted as if to say more, but Vada beat her to it, swallowing hard, eyes not quite meeting hers. “We do this every day,” you said, almost defensively, his tone trying to be light, as if brushing it off would bring them back to their usual rhythm. He stepped forward again, closing the space between them, reaching out like muscle memory. But Vada shook her head, just enough to make it count. “I don’t wanna keep doing this,” she muttered, her words barely rising above a whisper, like they were laced with a truth she was only now brave enough to say. You paused, lips slightly parted in surprise. “It’s not…” Vada started again, her voice breaking as she searched for words, eyes flicking down to the floor where the tension now pooled like spilled ink. “I—I don’t want to keep doing this anymore.” Her hand fell from her side and clenched slightly, like she was trying to hold onto something invisible. You brows lifted, confusion clouding his features, the playful air between them dissipating like mist. “Why not?” He asked, softly this time, with real curiosity, concern threading his voice. He wasn’t angry, just unsure. He took another step forward, but this time it was tentative, unsure of where the boundaries were now. Vada finally lifted her eyes, and there was a flicker of vulnerability behind them, like something long hidden now exposed to the light. “I want to be more than just… makeout partners,” she hummed, almost embarrassed, her voice coated in honesty. The silence that followed was thick and still, like the moment right before rain, when everything holds its breath.