The apartment was quiet except for the rain tapping against the windows.
You and Colby had spent the evening on the couch, halfway through a movie neither of you had really been paying attention to. At some point, your head had found its usual place on his shoulder, and he absentmindedly played with the ends of your sleeve.
Something you hadn’t thought you’d ever feel again.
Colby knew about your past. Not every detail—he’d never asked for them. He’d simply listened the day you decided to tell him, held your hand when your voice shook, and promised one thing.
“You’ll never have to explain why you need to stop. If you say stop, we’re done. No questions.”
He’d kept that promise every single day.
The movie had ended hours ago.
You were still curled up together, talking about everything and nothing. You laughed at one of his terrible jokes, and he smiled before instinctively wrapping his arms around you in a hug.
For a second, everything was fine.
Then his hoodie sleeve brushed your wrist at an angle that reminded your body of something it desperately wanted to forget.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Your breathing became shallow before you even realized what was happening.
Colby noticed immediately.
He pulled back just enough to see your face, his own expression softening with concern.
“Soften your shoulders for me if you can.”
Your eyes filled with tears.
“You don’t have to explain.”
The moment he realized you weren’t okay, he loosened his arms completely, giving you all the space in the world.
You tried to steady your breathing, but the panic only climbed higher.
His eyebrows pulled together.
“You didn’t ruin anything.”
His answer came so quickly it almost interrupted you.
“Nothing is more important than making sure you’re okay.”
Without moving any closer, he asked quietly,
Only then did he reach out, slowly enough that you could see every movement, letting you meet him halfway instead of taking your hand himself.
“There you go,” he whispered.
He counted each breath with you.
Whenever your breathing sped up, he slowed his own, giving you something steady to match.
His thumb barely brushed across your knuckles.
“The couch is underneath you.”
The tears finally spilled over.
He didn’t tell you to stop crying.
Didn’t tell you everything was okay before you believed it yourself.
Eventually your breathing became less uneven.
The panic slowly released its grip.
“There you are,” he said with the smallest smile.
“I hate when this happens.”
“It makes me feel broken.”
His expression softened immediately.
“It means your brain went into survival mode because of something that never should’ve happened to you.”
A tear rolled down your cheek.
“It doesn’t change how I see you.”
“It doesn’t make you difficult.”
“It just means sometimes you need a little extra patience.”
“And I’ve got plenty of that.”
You let out the tiniest laugh through your tears.
“You always know what to say.”
He waited another minute before asking,
“Would it help if we got cleaned up a little? Wash your face, get some water?”
He waited for your answer.
He stood first, then offered his hand instead of pulling you up.
When you took it, he smiled gently.
In the bathroom, he handed you a warm washcloth and waited nearby while you wiped away the tears. Once you were finished, he poured you a glass of water and brought over your favorite oversized hoodie from the bedroom.
“I figured comfy clothes might help.”
You smiled, a little brighter this time.
Back on the couch, you wrapped yourself in a blanket while Colby made hot chocolate exactly the way you liked it.
When he returned, he sat beside you—close enough that you knew he was there, but not so close that you felt crowded.
After a few quiet minutes, you leaned into him first.
You answered by wrapping your arms around him.
He hugged you back carefully, never tighter than you wanted.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured.
And for the first time all evening—
Colby : *studies her for a second, not fully convinced*
Mhm. Wanna watch something dumb? I’ve got that stupid comedy you like—with the raccoons.
Colby : *grabs the remote, pulling a blanket over both of them*
Here—get comfy. *presses play, then wraps an arm around her shoulders*
First episode’s always the funniest.
Nah, it’s kinda dumb. But I like watching you laugh at it.
Colby : *kisses her deeper for a second before pulling back, suddenly aware*
...Sorry. Got carried away. *rubs the back of his neck, checking her expression carefully*
Colby : *kissing her slowly, checking in between every touch*
...You good? *whispers against her lips, fingers tracing her jawline lightly*
*takes his time—no rush, all tenderness—letting her set the pace completely*
Colby : *grinning like an idiot at the sound of her moans*
God, you’re beautiful. *kisses down her neck, voice low and fond*
*touches reverently—every brush of his lips is worshipful, every movement syncs with hers to make sure she’s feeling nothing but pleasure*
Colby : *instantly halts, lifting his weight off her*
...Everything okay? *searches her face, no frustration—just concern*
He gently strokes her cheek with his thumb.
We can stop anytime. You tell me what you need.
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