"Definitely," I cleared my throat, finishing my food and switching off the lamp at his bedside table.
I should've felt embarrassed, I told myself. He'd offered me his bed, but I hadn't expected to feel… this way. His kindness, the way he was always looking out for everyone, was part of why I was drawn to him. But tonight, with him so close, it felt different. The simple fact that I was lying here while he slept on the floor made my chest tighten. I wanted to ask him to take the bed, but I didn't want to make things awkward. So, I just stayed quiet, pretending the warmth inside me wasn't growing with every passing second.
It wasn't until I heard his soft voice, barely above a whisper, that I realized I wasn't the only one awake.
"Are you okay?" Wynter's voice was low, as if he didn't want to disturb the silence.
I turned my head toward him. He was lying on the floor, his eyes slightly open, looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I'm okay," I said, though it wasn't entirely true. The words felt too light for what was in my chest. It wasn't discomfort—it was something else. Something I wasn't sure how to name.
The silence stretched between us for a moment before I heard him move again. I couldn't see his face from where I lay, but I could feel him there, close. I knew he was still awake. The air seemed to hum with that quiet tension, like everything was teetering just on the edge of something I couldn't quite reach.
And then, without thinking, I found myself speaking.
"Wynter?" My voice felt shy, even to me, and I wasn't sure why. I had always felt comfortable around him, but right now, everything felt charged, delicate.
"Yeah?" His voice sounded a little strained, like he wasn't sure where this was going either.
I hesitated for just a moment, wondering if I should even ask. But then I decided to just be honest, in this strange, quiet space between us. "Would you… mind if I held your hand?"
The words were out before I could stop them, and as soon as I said them, I felt heat rush to my cheeks. What was I doing? What if he thought it was weird?
But then I heard him shift, moving closer, and before I could talk myself out of it, his hand was in mine. It felt like an electric pulse ran through me when our fingers first touched. His hand was warm, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I didn't know if it was the simple act of holding hands, or if it was the way he seemed to settle with me, as if he'd been waiting for this moment too.
"You don't have to do this, you know," he whispered, his thumb brushing over my knuckles gently. "You can sleep. You don't need to worry about me."
I wanted to say something, but I couldn't quite find the words. Instead, I just squeezed his hand, not too tight, but just enough for him to feel it. It was like I needed to reassure him that this wasn't about obligation. I wasn't just holding his hand because I thought I should. I was holding it because it felt right.
"I'm not worried," I whispered back. "I just like being near you. I want to touch you in a way that's different, like you'd said."
I couldn't see his face, but I could almost feel the way his expression softened at my words. The warmth between us seemed to settle into something comfortable, something peaceful. The room felt smaller somehow, but not in a suffocating way. It was as though the space between us had been filled with something quiet, something that didn't need to be explained.
Slowly, I felt my eyelids grow heavier, the warmth of his hand in mine like an anchor in the stillness of the night. I could feel him beside me, his presence grounding me, and despite everything, the weight of the world outside this room seemed to disappear.
And before I knew it, sleep came, pulling me under like a soft tide, my hand still curled gently around his, as if we were holding onto something far more important than the night around us.
I felt his grip tighten, just a little. Like this time he wasn't going to drift away, like maybe, just maybe, he'd stay.
20
Every Almost
Flashback summer ‘15
Yesoh 15, Wynter 17
After a hearty dinner at March house made by Sydney’s mom, we all headed down to the pier by the ocean. Cahya, Soleh and Dad went to the ice cream parlour as Syd and Jax were off somewhere trying to convince themselves that they were just friends. The Kwon girls were down with a cold at home after a hasty late-night swim in the frost. Therefore, as per circumstance would usually have it—it was just Wyn and I .
The ocean stretched wide and endless before us, the waves rolling in slow, rhythmic laps against the pier. The sky was a soft, pinkish gold, the kind of summer evening that felt like a secret, like something magic was hoveringjustout of reach. I sat on the edge of the pier next to Wynter, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his arm, close enough to smell the faint, sun-drenched scent of his skin.
Even at seventeen, Wynter was beautiful; he was finally growing into himself. A stone sharpened and refined by the grains of time. His shoulders were broader, a newfound confidence that came with being more comfortable in his own skin. He was a wave rolling with purpose but never crashing. A voice deeper, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he laughed and jawline slicing through the very ice he venerated.
Standing beside him felt like being near something untouchable, something that had only just begun to settle into its own power. He carried an energy now, a quiet, simmering confidence that felt almost magnetic like he was drawing everything around him into his orbit without even trying. There was a steadiness to him, an intensity just beneath the surface, like an ocean current pulling me closer without a single word. I felt small, awestruck in his presence, as if he was a mystery only half-uncovered, a force waiting to be fully unleashed. It was as though he’d crossed some invisible threshold that summer, becoming something I could only watch from the sidelines, feeling both entranced and painfully aware of the distance between us.
“Can I ask you something?” I wondered, breaking the silence. “It’s a bit…intrusive.”
“Depends.” He replied looking dashing in white and blue Ralph Lauren. “What is it about?”
“Do you remember when we played truth or dare by the campfire, and you said you’d already kissed people before?” I cleared my throat in anticipation.
