The bench beneath them felt cooler than it should in the midday warmth, and he shifted slightly, more to ground himself than for comfort. She was beside him—calm, unbothered, leaning into the quiet—but his thoughts were loud.
He watched the trees sway beyond the courtyard, eyes fixed and unfocused.
You were fine before this.
He told himself that.
Weren't you?
Before all of this, he didn't crave someone's presence. He didn't lose his appetite over half-smiles and morning silences. He didn't walk around with this weight in his chest—a strange mix of restlessness and ache.
Now, every breath felt like it needed to be measured. Every thought filtered. Because one wrong turn in his head and he was spiraling.
And she was sitting so close.
He didn't need to look to know that her leg was only inches from his. That if she shifted slightly, she might touch his arm again. And if she did—God, what then?
Why are you like this now?
He wasn't always this… undone.
There were years of carefully layered control, silence, self-containment. He didn't speak unless spoken to. Didn't feel unless he had to. He kept his world manageable. Predictable.
But here he was—tense and wired, like the universe had rewired something essential in him without asking.
She was still flipping pages in her notebook. Completely unaware.
He closed his eyes for a moment. You're not scared of her. You're scared of what she's waking up in you.
Because it wasn't just attraction.
It was deeper. Uncomfortable. It made him question things he thought he'd accepted. The loneliness he wore like skin. The belief that maybe some people just don't get that kind of connection.
But here she was. Sitting beside him.
And every part of him was beginning to remember what it felt like to want something not just with his body—but with his soul.
That terrified him.
Because what if he was just imagining it?
What if he leaned in and everything shattered?
What if she didn't feel it?
What if she did?
"You're quiet," she murmured, her voice soft, like she was noticing the space between his thoughts.
He swallowed. "Yeah. Just… sorting my head out."
Good luck with that, he muttered inwardly.
Because nothing was in order anymore. Not his mind. Not his pulse. Not the way he looked at her when she wasn't watching.
Her shoulder brushed his as she leaned over slightly to grab something from her bag.
Just a moment.
But it sent heat through him like a ripple.
He didn't react on the outside. He couldn't. But inside—
How long can you pretend this is nothing? How long can you sit like this and not reach for more?
He turned his face away, forcing his breath to steady.
It wasn't the touch. It was what it meant.
That he wanted to be seen. Known. And maybe—maybe he wasn't as okay being alone as he had always told himself.
That scared him more than anything.
Because once you admit to needing someone…
You're not the same again.