You are in his room, low light, comfortable silence.

He's watching you - not the movie, not the world. You.

And then Clayton takes a deep breath, like someone who is about to cross a border he has always respected.

"Wait,"— he says, frowning, confused with his own feeling.—“Just... a second.”

You turn your face to him, worried.

He swallows dry.

Pause.

One more.

And with that hesitant sincerity that he rarely shows, he whispers:

"You're my best friend."

The words hover in the air for too long an instant.

And you know.

You feel it.

That didn't mean friendship.

It meant that he was too lost in you to call it something else.

It meant that he was in love - and only now realized.

The silence after that is almost deafening.

But it's a good silence.

Hot.

Full of meaning.

You lay your head on his chest, and his heart speaks for him.