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“Coming here was maybe not the right thing, but I needed to see you.”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “Did you need something?” I regretted the words before I’d even finished saying them, because they made me sound painfully naive.
“I mean–”
“You, Kaiya,” he cut in. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Always you.”
My throat tightened, but I couldn’t make myself look away from him, even when his eyes dropped to the floor, like saying the words had been painful.
I realised that maybe they had been, because for weeks – months, really – he’d been completely transparent about what he wanted, while I’d purposefully held him at arm’s length, even though I’d hated the distance.
“Joon…”
“Come. It’s late.” His voice was quiet, but in the silence of my room, it felt loud, or perhaps heavy, if such a thing were possible.
I didn’t respond at first, just stared up at him, trying to comprehend the meaning until he held out his hand.
“Bed, Kaiya,” he murmured. “Just to sleep.” But then he flinched and his expression fractured into something less certain.
“Unless you want me to go.” He lowered his hand. “I didn’t ask. I just came here, and I didn’t–” he broke off with a frustrated exhale. “I can go.”
“No.”
My hand shot out and closed around his forearm. His skin was so warm under my palm that my fingers clung harder for a moment before I could relax.
“It’s fine. Stay.”
I didn’t know how to justify this, didn’t know what possible argument I could give myself, only that I wanted him here, and he wanted to be here. That was enough.
“Stay,” I repeated. “Please.”
He nodded, and the lines on his face relaxed. Hesitantly, I moved my palm down his arm to slide my hand into his, trying to ignore the shiver that cascaded down my spine and settled in the small of my back.
I led him over to my bed, turning off the overhead light and pulling back the covers. I was already dressed for sleep, although I felt momentary embarrassment that I wore a faded Auriga t-shirt and shorts. At least it was clean. I climbed into the large, soft bed and scooted over automatically, remembering which side of the bed each of us had preferred. He slid into bed next to me, and I expected him to roll over, or onto his back, but instead he lay facing me. There was enough light coming in through the open curtains that I could still make out the shape of his face, but I think I could have mapped it out even in total darkness. It was as familiar to me as my own, even with the years between us.
“Is this weird?” he asked, words barely louder than the rustle of sheets.
“Yes, but also no,” I answered honestly.
“Why?”
“To which?”
Neither of us seemed to want to talk louder than a whisper. I had to lean forward to hear, but in the dark I couldn’t judge the distance between us until I felt the heat of his hand where it rested on the mattress between us, and my fingers brushed against his.
“Tell me why it’s weird and… tell me why it is not.”
I took a breath and held it for a moment before answering.
“It’s weird because it doesn’t feel weird,” I said honestly. “This shouldn’t feel normal. It should be uncomfortable.”
“But it feels normal?” he asked, and I felt his fingers twitch against mine.
“Maybe normal isn’t the right word.” I bit my lip as I tried to put my thoughts into the right order.
“Kaiya?”
“Hmm?”