In his arms, I melted slowly, not like someone losing consciousness, but like someone willingly surrendering to a long-awaited warmth.
My breaths were ragged, hot, brushing against his neck in an irregular rhythm, as if my body were revealing what words could not. My high temperature wasn't just a fever; it was an extension of that closeness, that embrace I wasn't used to… and didn't resist.
He held me with a strange stillness, as if I were light to him despite all the weight inside me. His fingers rested cautiously on my back, but without hesitation, as if he knew exactly where he needed to be.
He didn't pull away, he wasn't afraid, he didn't treat what happened yesterday as a passing mistake that could be ignored… but he stayed, closer than he should have been, and more genuine than I expected.
The last thing I remember is the sound of my front door closing, that faint sound that seemed to separate me from the entire world. After that, there was only the feeling of it… and then nothing.
I woke up slowly, as if my body refused to return to reality, clinging to the warmth that enveloped me. The first thing I felt wasn't the cold on my forehead… but the intense heat, so close that my breath mingled with his without me even realizing when it happened.
I was lying on the bed, but I wasn't alone.
Michael was beside me, closer than I should have been, as if the distance between us had vanished. His arm was lightly around me, but it wasn't fleeting; it was constant, as if it had found its natural place. I didn't move immediately… I didn't want to.
His breath was calm, steady, brushing against my skin with every inhale and exhale, sending a slight shiver through me despite the lingering heat. I raised my gaze slightly and found his features closer than usual, his details clearer… and more dangerous.
He was asleep, or so it seemed, but his closeness wasn't as innocent as it should have been.
I tried to move slightly, but his hand unconsciously pulled me toward him, as if even in his sleep he refused to let me go. I pressed myself closer than I had planned, feeling the warmth of his body seep into me, unsettling me in a way I hadn't anticipated.
My breath quickened uncontrollably, and my heart began to betray my composure, pounding as if trying to get his attention… or perhaps it was trying to get mine.
This wasn't just a fleeting moment.
There was something in that moment… something heavy, silent, yet clear. Something that made me observe his face closely, notice details I'd never paid attention to before, and wonder—when did he become so close? When did his presence become so important?
I hesitated for a few seconds, then slowly raised my hand, without fully thinking, as if it were drawn to him of its own accord. I stopped just before touching him, as if there was an invisible line that shouldn't be crossed… but I didn't pull away.
I remained like that, caught between desire and hesitation, between running and staying.
Then, with deadly calm… he opened his eyes.
Our eyes met without warning, without a chance to hide.
And for the first time… I didn't know how to breathe.
The rest is mine, not for writing. 🙂