~DO YOU REGRET IT?~
The dorm felt unusually calm that evening, just the two of us curled up on the sofa with Raffy's phone propped against a pillow. Some random drama played on the screen — neither of us paying much attention, but it filled the silence we didn't know how to break.
Then it happened.
The girl on the screen suddenly leaned in, pressing her lips against the boy's to shut him up.
My whole body froze. My cheeks burned instantly, memories slamming back — *our kiss*.
Raffy nearly dropped the phone in panic. "Ah—wait, wait, where's the remote?!" He fumbled around the cushions, ears turning red, his hands shaking as he tried to find the button to skip.
I couldn't take it. I buried my face in the nearest cushion, my heart hammering so loud it felt like he could hear it. My voice came out muffled, "Just change it!"
But when I peeked through the corner of the cushion… I saw him. His face. His jaw tense, his lips pressed together, his eyes flickering nervously between me and the screen.
For a second, our eyes locked. Neither of us blinked. The drama kept playing in the background, but it was like the world had gone completely quiet.
And that one memory — our kiss — became all I could think about.
The drama's voices faded into nothing, just background noise to the storm spinning between us. Raffy still hadn't moved. His hand rested on the remote, but his eyes… his eyes were glued on me.
I hugged the cushion tighter, trying to hide the heat crawling up my neck. "Stop staring," I mumbled, voice embarrassingly small.
He tilted his head slightly, a slow, almost teasing smirk tugging at his lips. "Why? You look like a tomato right now."
"Shut up!" I tossed the cushion at him, but he caught it easily, laughing under his breath. The sound was soft, warm — but it only made my heart pound harder.
The laughter faded quickly though. He lowered the cushion, his gaze shifting — serious now. Almost vulnerable. "You keep hiding your face every time that kiss comes up…" He paused, searching my expression. "Do you regret it?"
The question hit me like a punch to the chest. My breath caught, my lips parting but no words came out.
Did I regret it?
I shook my head slowly. "N-No.... I don't regret it. Not even a little." My voice cracked, but the truth slipped out anyway. "I just… I don't know what it meant to you."
Raffy's fingers twitched around the cushion, then stilled. His gaze burned into me, raw and unfiltered. "It meant everything to me."
The silence stretched again, thicker this time. My chest tightened, my hands fidgeting in my lap.
"Raffy…" I whispered, not knowing what else to say.
He leaned closer, not touching, not yet, but near enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. "Then stop hiding from me, Wateen. Because I'm not running away from what happened. And neither should you."
I swallowed hard, searching his face for something—anything—that would tell me what to do.
Then, out of nowhere, Raffy leaned even closer, his breath brushing my ear. "You should know something," he whispered.
My heart skipped. "W-what?"
"That cushion you threw at me earlier? You're not getting it back."
I blinked, stunned. He pulled the cushion to his chest with a smug grin, leaving me red-faced, half annoyed, half relieved that he'd broken the moment before I completely combusted.
But even as he smirked, I noticed it—the way his fingers tightened around the fabric, knuckles white. Like laughing was easier than admitting what we both felt.