It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
—
Or maybe
—
it wasn't supposed to happen at all.
—
Christopher was saying something.
Something soft.
Something I wasn't really listening to.
—
Because he was close.
Too close.
—
Close enough that I could see the way his lips moved when he spoke.
Close enough to notice the small pause between his breaths.
—
"…Jackson?"
—
I didn't answer.
—
I was already looking at him differently.
—
And I think
—
he noticed.
—
Because he stopped talking.
—
The silence stretched.
—
Not awkward.
—
Just
—
heavy.
—
"Why are you staring at me like that?" he asked quietly.
—
I didn't know how to answer that.
—
So I didn't.
—
Instead
—
I stepped closer.
—
Christopher didn't move.
—
Not forward.
Not back.
—
Just stayed there.
—
Waiting.
—
My hand reached him before I could think about it.
Light at first.
Just brushing his wrist.
—
He tensed.
—
Not pulling away.
—
Just
—
not relaxed anymore.
—
That should've been enough.
—
It wasn't.
—
I tightened my grip slightly.
Pulling him closer.
—
"Jackson…" his voice dropped, uncertain now.
—
I could hear it.
I knew what it meant.
—
I didn't stop.
—
"Just stay still," I said, quieter than I expected.
—
Not a command.
—
But not a request either.
—
Christopher hesitated.
—
A second too long.
—
Then
—
he let me.
—
That was all I needed.
—
I moved closer.
Too close.
—
Our breaths mixed.
—
And for a moment
—
everything felt right.
—
Simple.
—
Like this was where we were supposed to be.
—
My hand slid from his wrist to his shoulder.
Holding him there.
—
Steady.
—
He looked at me.
Really looked this time.
—
There was something in his eyes.
—
Not fear.
—
Not exactly.
—
Something softer.
Something unsure.
—
"…Are you sure?" he asked.
—
The question hit somewhere I didn't want to look at.
—
So I ignored it.
—
Instead
—
I leaned in.
—
The distance disappeared.
—
His breath caught.
—
And then
—
our lips met.
—
Soft.
At first.
—
Almost hesitant.
—
Like even that might be too much.
—
But it wasn't.
—
Not to me.
—
Because it felt
—
good.
—
Too good.
—
Like something I didn't want to stop once it started.
—
I deepened it without thinking.
—
My hand tightening slightly against him.
Holding him in place.
—
Christopher didn't pull away.
—
But he didn't move closer either.
—
He just
—
stayed.
—
That should've meant something.
—
I didn't let it.
—
Instead, I pushed forward.
Just a little.
—
Enough that he stepped back.
—
Once.
—
Twice.
—
Until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed.
—
He froze.
—
And I
—
—
I didn't stop.
—
He fell back onto the mattress.
Soft.
Unsteady.
—
And for a second
—
everything went still.
—
I was above him.
—
Close enough to feel his breathing change.
—
Faster now.
—
"…Jackson," he said again.
—
Different this time.
—
Not calling.
—
Not asking.
—
Something in between.
—
I should've stopped.
—
I knew that.
—
I felt it.
—
That small, quiet voice
—
telling me something wasn't right.
—
But
—
—
his lips were still slightly parted.
—
And he hadn't pushed me away.
—
So I leaned down again.
—
Kissing him softer this time.
Slower.
—
Trying to make it feel like something it
wasn't.
—
Trying to convince both of us.
—
Christopher's hands lifted
—
hesitating
—
—
before resting lightly against my chest.
—
Not pulling me closer.
—
Not pushing me away.
—
Just
—
there.
—
And that
—
—
that should've been the answer.
—
But I ignored that too.
—
Because it felt good.
—
Too good.
—
"…We shouldn't
—
" he started quietly.
—
I cut him off.
—
Not with words.
—
With another kiss.
—
And this time
—
he didn't try to finish the sentence.
—
The room fell silent again.
—
But not the same kind of silence as before.
—
This one
—
felt wrong.
—
Even if I didn't want to admit it.
—
Even if I pretended not to notice.
—
Even if I told myself
—
this was what we both wanted.
—
Because underneath all of it
—
past the warmth
—
past the closeness
—
past the feeling I didn't want to let go of
—
—
there was something else.
—
Something quiet.
—
Something uncomfortable.
—
Something I didn't understand yet.
—
But I would.
—
Too late.
—
And Christopher
—
—
he already did.