Liam stiffened by the voice panicked "Did he hear me?how long have he been standing there?" He thought nervously "Has he been watching all this while?". 'Ohh Liam, you are so stupid" He scolds himself.
Liam sat there not saying a word of reply acting asif he wasn't spoken to. ' maybe if I don't say anything he would not care' he thought to himself.
Micah walked out, dressed the same as before in his gray nightwear, but somehow looking sharper, colder, as though the mere act of stepping back into the room returned him to a world Liam could never quite enter. His hair was still damp, the faint sheen of water catching the light. Without a glance at Liam, he crossed to the desk, pulled out the chair beside him, and sat down.
"Show me," Micah said, his tone calm, neutral.
Liam's breath caught. Even the simplest words from him seemed to settle in the air with weight. "Y-yes," he stammered, quickly sliding the book toward Micah, his hand brushing against Micah's wrist as he did. The contact was brief, feather-light, but enough to make Liam's chest tighten.
Micah did not move. He simply lowered his eyes to the book, studying the underlined questions.
Liam bit the inside of his cheek, watching his profile. The perfect line of his jaw. The way his emerald eyes scanned the text, unreadable. Micah wasn't pushing his hand away. He wasn't looking at him either—but he wasn't resisting. That had to mean something, didn't it?
Swallowing hard, Liam let his hand linger closer. His fingers brushed the edge of Micah's sleeve again, slower this time.
Still no reaction.
Encouraged, Liam leaned closer, tilting his head as if peering at the words, though he wasn't even seeing them. "Um…this one," he said softly, pointing at a sentence in the middle of the page. His shoulder pressed lightly against Micah's arm.
Micah's gaze moved to the spot Liam indicated. He picked up the pencil, circled the line, and wrote down a correction with smooth, precise strokes. Not once did his expression shift.
The silence wrapped around them. Liam's pulse thundered in his ears. He knew Micah noticed. He had to. No one could miss how close he was sitting, how his hand kept brushing against him, how his shoulder leaned into him.
Micah turned another page. Liam took a breath and tried again, this time letting his hand rest deliberately against Micah's forearm. The fabric of the gray sleeve was soft beneath his fingertips. His skin tingled with the contact.
Micah's pen paused for a fraction of a second before continuing its work. His face remained blank. His eyes fixed on the page.
But Liam's heart soared. He didn't pull away.
He's letting me.
Every nerve in Liam's body buzzed with nervous excitement. He had never been this bold before, but tonight he had promised himself he would act. He had promised he would not waste this chance.
He leaned even closer, his breath brushing Micah's shoulder. The faint scent of soap and fresh water clung to him, so clean, so sharp it made Liam dizzy. He wanted more. He wanted to claim something, anything, before this moment slipped away.
He swallowed, his hand trembling as it slid a little further down Micah's arm. He felt the shape of his wrist beneath his fingers, the faint steady pulse beating there.
Micah still did not move.
Liam's lips parted. His chest rose and fell quickly, his thoughts a tangled mess of determination and fear. This was the farthest he had ever gone. One more step. Just one more.
"Micah…" His voice came out in a whisper, barely audible. He leaned forward, his heart hammering so violently it almost hurt.
His nose brushed the side of Micah's hair. He tilted his face, closing the distance slowly, trembling, uncertain but desperate. His lips aimed for Micah's cheek, for the faintest of kisses, the symbol of everything he thought closeness meant.
And in that suspended moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.
Micah's pen stopped mid-stroke. His emerald eyes lifted from the page, turning, meeting Liam's face so close to his own.
The air tightened.
Liam froze, lips inches away, his entire body rigid, his eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear.
Micah stared at him, his expression unreadable as always, giving away nothing—no anger, no surprise, no acceptance. Just that calm, steady look that stripped Liam bare and left him uncertain of everything.
"…"
Liam's hand clutched harder at Micah's arm, desperate, pleading silently for permission, for acknowledgment, for something.
But Micah did not speak.
The silence grew louder, heavier, pressing against Liam's chest until he thought he might burst.
And yet—even in that silence—he could not pull away.