Eli's hands trembled.
Not because it was cold—the sun was warm on his hoodie, and the park around them buzzed with the casual chaos of a weekend afternoon.
But because Riven was sitting beside him on the bench, close enough that their knees brushed, and every accidental touch felt like a question neither of them dared to ask.
They hadn't spoken much since the kiss.
The kiss that still replayed in Eli's head every time he blinked.
The kiss that left behind more silence than promises.
Eli glanced sideways.
Riven was staring ahead, jaw tight, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Always composed. Always quiet. But Eli could read the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled too tightly around his coffee cup.
He wanted to ask: What are we now?
But the words felt too heavy to lift.
So instead, Eli whispered, "You didn't have to come."
Riven finally looked at him. "I wanted to."
Eli swallowed. The words caught in his throat like thorns.
Riven leaned back. "It's peaceful here."
Eli nodded. "I like drawing people when they're not pretending."
"You draw strangers?"
"Only the ones who look like they're feeling too much."
Riven gave him a small, unreadable smile. "Have you ever drawn me?"
Eli hesitated. "I tried… but you never sit still. You carry tension like armor."
Riven looked away. "Maybe because I don't know how to be seen without it."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was honest.
And Eli's heart ached.
"I meant what I said," Riven added softly, eyes still focused on the lake. "I didn't kiss you out of impulse. I kissed you because I couldn't not."
Eli's breath caught.
"I just don't want to ruin you," Riven continued, voice low. "Or make promises I might not be able to keep."
Eli turned to him, his voice smaller than he intended. "You wouldn't ruin me."
"You don't know that."
"I know what ruins me," Eli said. "And it's people walking away without telling me why."
Riven froze.
And Eli regretted it the second he said it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered quickly. "That was—"
"No," Riven interrupted. "Don't apologize for telling the truth."
They sat in silence again. This time, heavier.
A child ran past them chasing a balloon. A couple laughed on a picnic mat. Somewhere, a dog barked happily. Life continued as if hearts weren't breaking quietly on park benches.
Then Riven spoke.
"I've never liked anyone the way I like you."
Eli's head snapped toward him.
"But I don't know how to… do this. I wasn't raised with softness. I was raised to excel. To win. To control things. But you—" He looked at Eli with glassy, stormy eyes. "You make me want to forget all of that."
Eli blinked back tears.
"Then forget it," he said. "We don't have to define this. We don't have to label it. Just… stay. Sit with me. Be here."
Riven's hand moved, slowly, carefully, until it brushed Eli's.
And then he took it.
Held it.
As if anchoring them both.
And Eli exhaled.
Not because everything was perfect.
But because—for once—it didn't have to be.
---
Later, as the sun began to dip and shadows stretched long, Riven walked Eli to his dorm.
When they reached the door, Riven paused.
"Can I see you again tomorrow?" he asked.
Eli smiled, heart thudding. "You're already seeing me now."
"I mean it," Riven said. "I want to see you again. And the next day. And the day after that."
Eli stepped closer.
"You can," he said. "You will."
Riven leaned in—slow, hesitant—until their foreheads touched.
He didn't kiss him this time.
But he didn't need to.
Because in that quiet, unspoken closeness…
They almost said the words.
And for now, almost was enough.
---