It didn't register as wrong at first.
That was the crux of it.
It felt… familiar.
Like something she'd already accepted without even realizing it.
He was standing closer now.
Not by chance.
Not every now and then.
Always.
Close enough that she couldn't help but notice.
Not far enough that she questioned it.
"You're quiet today," he observed.
His voice was low.
Like he already knew what was coming.
"Just tired," she replied.
Simple enough.
He tilted his head, just a fraction.
Studying her.
"You're lying."
Not an accusation.
Not harsh in any way.
Just certain.
Her chest tightened for a split second.
"Why would I lie?"
A slight pause.
And then—
"Because you overthink everything."
The answer came too easily.
Like he had rehearsed it.
Like he would say it again in the future.
She looked away from him.
Not wanting to argue the point.
Not wanting to have to explain herself.
But he didn't budge.
"Look at me."
The words were soft.
But they definitely weren't a request.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then did as he asked.
His eyes didn't leave hers.
Not even for a second.
"You don't have to hide things from me," he said.
Something about those words felt… heavy.
"I'm not hiding anything."
A pause hung in the air.
"Then why do you pull away?"
The question lingered.
Longer than it should have.
Because she didn't have an answer ready.
Or maybe—
she just didn't want to say it out loud.
"I don't," she finally said.
Another lie.
Quieter this time around.
He noticed it.
Of course, he did.
"You do," he said.
Not arguing with her.
Simply stating a fact.
His hand moved ever so slightly—
not quite touching her,
but close enough that she could feel the proximity.
That space—
that almost touch—
was somehow worse than actual contact.
"You think you don't need anyone," he continued.
She frowned.
"That's not—"
"But you do."
The interruption was seamless.
Controlled.
"You just don't like admitting it."
Her breathing slowed.
Not calm by any means.
Deliberate.
"And you think I need you?" she asked.
A challenge laced in her tone this time.
He didn't answer right away.
That should've been the moment to back away.
To leave it be.
To put an end to whatever this was turning into.
But she didn't.
"Not think," he said finally.
A pause for emphasis.
"Know."
The word hit deeper than it should have.
Silence stretched out between them.
Tense.
Unwavering.
She could've laughed it off easily.
Turned it into some kind of joke.
Walked away from it all.
But she didn't do any of that.
Because a part of her—
the part she didn't quite understand—
didn't push him away like she should.
It stayed put.
And he picked up on that too.
He always did.
"You didn't leave," he said quietly.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Just one.
"I wasn't planning on it."
The answer slipped out before she could stop it.
A small smile touched his face.
Not a wide grin.
Not obvious in any way.
Just satisfied.
And that was the turning point—
the distance between them
was no longer hers to dictate.
Because staying put that one time
made it that much harder to walk away later.
And she wasn't aware of it just yet—
but she was already in too deep
to see where things were headed.