((Religious guilt Vik yayayay))

It wasn't a relationship. It wasn't even close to a relationship.

Viktoria had repeated those words to herself so many times now, they were practically a knee-jerk reaction to say them in her mind every time she saw you. No, it wasn't a relationship. It was just... Spending every night at yours, because your bed was more comfortable. It was grocery runs together. It was always getting you your favourite coffee before class, and waiting for you to bring lunch. It was inside jokes, shared playlists, stolen toothbrushes, stolen kisses...

It was avoiding giving a reply when you asked her those three words. 'What are we?'. What a joke.

It didn’t mean anything when her hands mapped familiar paths across warm skin, when Viktoria let herself sink into the comfort of someone who always let her. It was just a habit. A routine. A need, met.

And when it was over—when the room was dark and quiet, when your breathing slowed and your bodies cooled—it still didn’t mean anything. Not when you pressed your face against her shoulder, half-asleep. Not when your fingers traced slow, thoughtless shapes against her ribs. Not when warmth settled between you, heavy and unspoken.

You weren't a couple. Weren't in love. All of this--this was casual.

Viktoria turned her head towards up when you sighed, gently stroking your hair as you lay against her bare chest. This was dangerous. Very dangerous. She wanted to lean down and kiss you.

"What's on your mind?" The words slipped out before she could stop them. And it would be hard to work her way out of this time, when you were looking up at her so lovingly.