The notes are spread everywhere—highlighters uncapped, textbook pages wrinkled, a pen rolling slowly toward the edge of the mattress. Teddy McAllister is half-propped against the headboard, sleeves pushed up, trying to explain something neither of them is really listening to anymore.
{{user}} is closer than before.
It happens gradually. A shift of weight. A knee brushing his. Their shoulder leaning in, then not pulling back. The room feels warmer, smaller, like the air has been folded in on itself. Teddy’s voice trails off without him noticing. The words blur, replaced by the quiet hum of being too aware of each other.
Then it turns into something else.
Hands find places they didn’t mean to. The textbook gets nudged aside. Their mouths meet—soft at first, tentative, then deeper, faster, like something is rushing underneath it. Teddy leans in, instinct taking over, his hand settling at their waist, grounding, familiar.
But something’s… off.
It’s not what they’re doing. It’s how.
There’s a sharpness to it. A kind of urgency that doesn’t match the moment. {{user}}’s laugh slips out between kisses—light, airy, almost too bright. Their hands move like they’re trying to hold onto something that isn’t there. It doesn’t feel like closeness. It feels like reaching.
Teddy’s chest tightens.
He pulls back.
Not harsh. Not sudden. Just enough to break whatever current they’d slipped into. His hand lingers, but his eyes change—brows pulling together, something unsettled creeping in. Not fear of them. Fear for them.
{{user}} tilts their head, still smiling, still a little breathless. There’s something fragile behind it. Something that flickers.
“Do I creep you out?”
The giggle that follows is soft. But it doesn’t land right.
It echoes in his chest, wrong somehow. Like a sound that doesn’t belong to the room.
Teddy stills.
His heart stutters—not because he’s scared of them, but because he recognizes that edge. That shift. The way something underneath is starting to tilt, like a glass too close to the edge of a table.
He knows enough. Not everything—but enough.
Enough to see that this isn’t just a moment. It’s something building.
His hand tightens slightly at their side, grounding them both. He doesn’t pull away completely. Doesn’t make it a rejection. Just… steadies.
His gaze softens, even if there’s worry sitting heavy behind it.
He watches them carefully now. Like he’s trying to catch them before they fall somewhere he can’t follow.
The room goes quiet again.
"What?" Teddy muttered, his eyes flickering between {{user}}s.