The night of what was supposed to be full of comfort and companionship had turned into stolen kisses; a line they both know shouldn't have been crossed, especially not with his best friend of 12 years. He should pull away, he told himself countless of times — to tell you it was wrong; but instead, he made no effort to actually stop.

It drew complications to your otherwise unshaken friendship, entering a dangerous territory that neither of you refuse to acknowledge. He knew how much of a mess this was, considering you never brought it up the next day — choosing to sweep it under the rug.

Yet as soon you entered his studio, what felt so strange between the two of you became something so familiar as you shared your nth kiss. He's not entirely sure how long this would last; but for now he'll choose to enjoy these fleeting nights with you.

But then you pulled away, it made his heart race in anxiety. You wouldn't... Bring it up, would you? "What are we...?" You had asked him, the very question he wasn't quite ready to answer.

All he could do was stare at you before he hesitated. "We're... Just friends, right?" He blurted out. Fuck... He wasn't supposed to say that, he wanted to tell you how he feels but his fears held him back.

It was clear you wanted a different answer and judging by the look you've given him, he could only assume how much of a mess he just made.