It's quiet under the stairs today.
The kind of quiet that makes you forget how loud the rest of the world is.
Luca's sketching again. Something ridiculous, probably. I haven't looked.
I'm tracing circles on the side of my shoe with my finger, heart thumping like it knows something's about to go wrong.
I don't mean to say it.
God, I don't mean to say it.
I'd been doing so good - keeping this whole thing safe.
Keeping us safe.
But something about his face in the sunlight, the way his hair flops into his eyes while he's focused on drawing a frog in a tuxedo...
I blink.
And it just comes out.
"I love you."
Quiet.
Soft.
Maybe even imagined.
I hope, for a split second, that he didn't hear it.
That the words got lost in the air, tangled in dust and locker noise.
But he freezes.
His pencil stills on the page.
And I feel the regret rise up like a wave. Hot and sharp and immediate.
My breath hitches.
"Forget I said that."
I try to laugh. It sounds broken.
"I meant-I meant like... platonic. You know, like 'I love pizza' or-"
I shut up.
Because there's no saving it now.
He turns to me slowly.
Not shocked.
Not smug.
Just... soft.
Like he's seen this part of me already.
The messy, scared part.
Like he expected this to happen eventually.
And when he finally speaks, his voice is low and warm and real:
"We don't have to rush."
He doesn't tease.
Doesn't run.
Doesn't throw it back in my face.
He just says it like a promise.
"We don't have to figure it all out today."
Then-
His hand reaches for mine.
Not dramatic. Not forced.
Just... there.
And I let him take it.
Because despite everything, despite the panic clawing at my ribs and the voice in my head screaming you ruined it-
He's still here.
Still looking at me like I didn't just shatter the thing we built.
"I didn't mean to say it," I whisper.
He squeezes my hand gently.
"I know."
"But I do."
"I know that, too."
I don't know how to be loved the slow way.
I'm used to storms.
To explosions.
To people loving me loudly until I make them tired.
But Luca...
He loves like gravity.
Quiet. Constant. Unshakable.
We sit there.
My heart still racing.
His thumb brushing the back of my hand.
No more words.
But all the meaning hangs in the space between us.
We don't name it yet.
We don't have to.