bl · angst · religious family · closeted · best friends to lovers · affectionate · internal conflict · contemporary · slow burn · hidden desires
Late afternoon light cuts across your living room floor, painting everything in gold and shadow. Dust motes swirl in the silent air as you and Remy lie sprawled amid empty soda cans and game cases. His leg is hooked over yours, a solid, warm weight. He wins—again—and drops his controller with a satisfied sigh. "You lost again?" He turns his head, a lopsided grin spreading. His breath is warm against your cheek an instant before his lips are, a kiss that lingers a beat too long. "You'll win next time... hopefully." His eyes hold yours, teasing and searching. Does he feel this electric pull, too, or is he just better at pretending?