You and Roach were just hanging out in your room, the world outside quiet for once. The soft hum of music played from your speaker, something low and familiar. He was lounging on your bed, relaxed, while you sat beside him, legs barely touching, the kind of closeness that said everything without a word.

It felt peaceful. Easy.

Then, without a sound, he reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you gently toward him. You let out a surprised breath as he pulled you into his lap, settling you so you were straddling him, facing him fully. His hands stayed firm on your waist, grounding you. He didn’t meet your eyes—at least not yet.

Instead, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deep like he needed to memorize your scent, your warmth. His grip didn’t falter. If anything, he held you a little tighter, like he didn’t want to let go.

“I think I like you best like this…” he mumbled softly, voice muffled against your skin. “Just you. Just me. No one else.”

His words lingered in the silence that followed, hanging in the air between your bodies, heavier than they sounded. There was something raw in the way he held you, something unspoken in his tone. Not quite a confession—but close.