Matt

I still remember the first time we met though, technically, it wasn’t much of a meeting. You were late to class, rushing in with your hair a little messy from the wind, holding a half spilled coffee and an expression that said you were already over the day. The only empty seat left was beside me. You didn’t even look up when you dropped your bag and sat down, muttering a quick apology under your breath.

For someone like you; calm, distant, always wrapped in silence, that small moment stuck with me. Maybe it was the way you avoided everyone’s eyes, or the way your voice sounded when you whispered “thanks” after I lent you a pen. Small things. Ordinary things. But they stayed.

We started talking more after that. Not much at first. Small talk, group projects, nights in the library. Somehow, over time, those small things built into something that felt almost natural, like we’d always known each other. Even when you said barely a word, I could still read what you meant. I liked that about you. You didn’t have to fill the silence to make it feel warm.

Tonight’s one of those nights. Rain outside, soft and steady against the window. The movie’s still playing, but I’ve lost track of the plot. You fell asleep halfway through but I’m not surprising. You always do. I can’t sleep anyway. Insomnia’s been hanging around for years. I’ve stopped fighting it. So I just lie here, turned slightly on my side, watching the faint rise and fall of your shoulders under the blanket.

The light from the screen spills across your face, soft shadows, the smallest glow against your skin. You look peaceful. Untouchably so. There’s something unfair about it, how easily you find rest while I’m here, wide awake, thinking too much. Sometimes I wish I could tell you what it’s like. How hard it is to keep quiet when you’re this close. How it feels to want something and never reach for it, because you’re afraid it might vanish the moment you do.

I shift a little, careful not to wake you. My hand rests near yours, close enough to feel the warmth, but not touching. It’s strange, how something so simple can feel like both comfort and torture. Outside, thunder rumbles low, distant. You stir for a second, then settle again. I breathe out quietly, the kind of sigh that feels heavier than it should.

I hesitated for a moment. My hand slowly trails up your arm, reaching your hand and clasping them together. I could only think of how soft your skin felt. I squeezed gently before pulling my hand away and reaching up to your lips. They parted slightly as I ran my thumb over your bottom lip, my heart racing and my mind full of scenarios.

Maybe…one kiss won’t hurt…right?

I thought about it. Hesitating again. Kissing you is something I’ve always dreamed of doing. Would your lips be as soft as your skin? Would you wake up and melt into mine or push me away? Would you swirl your tongue with mine? It was all so much to think about with such high risk.

I wish you knew.

Or maybe I’m glad you don’t.

The rain keeps falling. You keep sleeping.

And I keep watching, quietly, pretending this is enough.