Declan leans back against the couch, his legs spread wide and his beer balanced on one knee.

He looks comfortable, maybe even a little smug, like he owns the damn room. And he sort of does. Declan has this energy about him, this gravity that pulls people in whether they like it or not. I've seen it with Valarie, and hell, I've felt it myself. Right now, though, it's almost too much to look at him directly. My brain keeps circling back to thoughts I'm not sure I'm ready to face.

The silence stretches between us, but it's not uncomfortable. Declan watches the TV, the muted glow casting shadows over his sharp jaw and the curve of his neck. My fingers twitch on the couch cushion, like they want to reach out and touch him, just to see if he's as solid as he looks.

Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?

I take a long sip of my beer, trying to drown the thoughts before they can take root. But they're stubborn, like everything else about Declan. He shifts slightly, his thigh brushing against mine, and I swear to God, my whole body stiffens.

"You okay?" Declan asks, his voice low and rough, cutting through the quiet. He glances at me, his brows drawing together in concern. "You've been quiet. More than usual."

I clear my throat, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"About?" He doesn't let up, of course. Declan's never been one to leave things alone, especially when he thinks there's something worth poking at.

I shrug, trying to play it off. "Just life. You know how it is."

He hums, taking another sip of his beer before setting the bottle on the coffee table. "You're full of shit," he says, but there's no bite in his voice. Just something softer, something curious. "You've been off all night."

"Have I?" I quip, but it comes out weaker than I intend. I can feel his eyes on me, sharp and searching, and it's like he's peeling back layers I didn't even know I had.

"Yeah, you have," he says, his voice quieter now. "You wanna talk about it?"

I laugh, but it's forced. "Not really."

"Elias," he says, leaning in just enough that I can feel the warmth of him, "if you've got something on your mind, just say it. We're not exactly strangers, you know."

And that's the problem, isn't it? We're not strangers. We're something else entirely, something I don't even have the words for yet. I glance at him, my chest tightening when I meet his gaze. His eyes are steady, unflinching, and I know he's not going to let this go.

"I don't know how to say it," I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

"Try," he says, his voice steady, patient in a way that makes my stomach flip. He's close now, closer than he needs to be, and I can smell the faint hint of his cologne mixed with beer and sweat.

I hesitate, my thoughts spinning in a thousand different directions. But then he reaches out, his hand brushing against mine where it rests on the couch. It's tentative, almost shy, and completely at odds with everything I know about him.

The world seems to tilt, narrowing down to the single point of contact between us. My heart pounds in my chest, loud enough that I'm sure he can hear it.

"Declan," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I don't even know what I'm about to say next, but it doesn't matter because he's already moving. Slowly, cautiously, like he's giving me every chance to pull away.

But I don't.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I shift closer, closing the distance between us. Our knees bump, and then his hand is fully on mine, warm and solid and so damn real it makes my head spin.

"This okay?" he asks, his voice rougher now, like he's fighting against his own uncertainty. He looks as nervous as I feel. Does he... does he feel this pull between us as well?

I nod, my throat too tight to form words. It's more than okay. It's everything.

He squeezes my hand lightly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that sends shivers down my spine. It should feel strange, holding another man's hand like this. It should feel wrong. But it doesn't. It feels... right. Like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

I look at him, really look at hime. He is honestly one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen. I've never thought of myself as gay, or straight for that matter. I like what I like, and what I like are beautiful people. With that being said, though, I've never been with a man. I mean, outside of sharing a girl or two. But with Declan, it feels different.

Before I can find the courage to speak, Declan breaks the silence. "I think I like you."

The words hit me like a freight train, stealing every ounce of air from my lungs. Declan's voice is steady, but there's a vulnerability in it I've never heard before. He's staring at me, his eyes unwavering, like he's daring me to say something. To do something.

My pulse thunders in my ears. Did I hear him right? Did Declan, the same Declan who walks around with a cocky grin and enough swagger to fill a room, just say that?

I try to swallow, but my throat's too dry. "You... you think?"

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to laugh, but his eyes stay serious. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I think I like you. And not just... as a friend. I mean, I don't know. I talked with Valarie about it. I thought maybe I was mistaking our friendship for something more, but I don't think that anymore. I know it's more." His words tumble from his mouth at sonic speed.

Holy shit.

I sit back, breaking the contact between our hands as my brain scrambles to make sense of this. Of him. Of me. Declan doesn't move, doesn't look away. He just waits, giving me space. And that alone says more than his words ever could.

I rake a hand through my hair, trying to process. "Declan... I don't know what to say."

He nods, his jaw tightening. "You don't have to say anything. I just—" He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't want to keep it in anymore. Not after everything."

Everything. That single word carries so much weight. Valarie. Us. This weird, tangled thing we've got going on. And now, this.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "You're not... fucking with me, are you?"

That earns me a real smile, small but genuine. "When have you ever known me to fuck around about this kind of thing?"

Fair point.

"I just..." I shake my head, still trying to piece together my thoughts. "This is... unexpected."

"You think it's not for me?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You think I woke up one day and thought, 'Hey, maybe I'm into Elias now'? Maybe I'll suck his cock with Valarie. No. This shit snuck up on me, and it's been driving me crazy."

His words have my hardening in my jeans. The look on his face tells me that he didn't mean to say all of that.

The room feels like it's spinning, my heart pounding in a rhythm that's all wrong. Declan stares at me, his face flushed with frustration and something else I can't name. The air between us is so thick it feels like I'm breathing through cotton, and I don't know if I should laugh or get up and walk away.

But I don't do either.

Instead, I lean forward, elbows on my knees, my head cradled in my hands. My mind is racing, trying to figure out what to say, what to do. Because the words he just said, this shit snuck up on me, hit me harder than I expected. And fuck if I don't feel the same.

Declan clears his throat, the sound breaking through the chaos in my head. "Look, forget I said anything," he mutters, shifting on the couch like he's ready to bolt. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I'm not expecting anything from you."

"Declan, stop." My voice comes out steadier than I thought it would. I sit back, turning to face him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" His jaw tightens, his defensive walls shooting up faster than I can blink.

"Act like this is something you need to apologize for," I say, meeting his gaze head-on. "Because it's not."

His eyes narrow, studying me like he's trying to figure out if I'm messing with him. "So what, then? You're just... cool with this?"

"Honestly?" I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. "I don't know what I am. But I know I'm not running away."

That gets his attention. His posture relaxes just a fraction, and I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch. "You're not?"

"No," I say firmly, my voice softening. "I'm not."

His eyes stay locked on mine, and for a second, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The sounds of the TV, even the rush of blood in my ears. It all goes quiet. It's just us, sitting too close on this damn couch, navigating uncharted territory.

Declan leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees. His hand is so close to mine that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. "I don't want to mess this up," he admits, his voice low, almost hesitant. "Whatever this is, whatever it could be... I don't want to ruin it."

"You won't." The words come out before I can think, but they feel right. True. "You couldn't."

His gaze flickers to my hand, and for a moment, I think he's going to take it again. But he hesitates, his fingers curling into a fist instead. "I've never... you know."

"Been with a guy?" I offer, my own voice softer now.

He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Yeah. I mean, sharing Valarie with you? That's one thing. But this?" He gestures between us, his hand brushing mine. "This is different."

"It is," I agree, my throat tightening. "But that doesn't mean it's bad."

Declan looks at me, really looks at me, and I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. He's always been the confident one, the one who charges in headfirst without a second thought. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and unsure, does something to me. It makes me want to reach out, to close the distance between us and show him that he doesn't have to have it all figured out right now.

So I do.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach over and place my hand on his. His skin is warm, his fingers twitching under my touch, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he turns his hand over, his palm meeting mine, our fingers curling together.

It's a simple gesture, but it feels like so much more. Like a promise, unspoken but understood.

Declan swallows hard, his gaze flicking between our hands and my face. "This feels... weird."

I chuckle, the sound breaking through the tension like a breath of fresh air. "Yeah. It does. But not in a bad way."

"No," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not in a bad way."

We sit there like that for what feels like an eternity, the weight of the moment settling around us. My thoughts are a tangled mess, but one thing is crystal clear: this is real. Whatever it is, whatever it becomes, it's real.

Declan shifts, his knee brushing against mine, and I swear I feel a spark shoot straight up my spine. "Elias," he says, his voice rough, "I don't know where this goes. But I know I want to find out."

"Me too," I admit, the words surprising even me. But they're true. I want to know what this is, what it could be. I want to see where it leads.

Declan leans in, his lips just a breath away. My heart is hammering so loud I'm sure he can hear it. There's a question in his blue eyes, a flicker of uncertainty that makes him pause. He looks so vulnerable.

I could end this now. I could pull back, laugh it off, pretend the moment never happened. But I don't want to. I can't. So I close the gap, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that feels both terrifying and inevitable.

His lips are warm, firm but soft, and there's a hesitation in the way he kisses me back, like he's not sure what he's doing but he wants to get it right. His stubble stretches my skin, but I find that I don't hate the feeling. My hand moves of its own accord, sliding up to the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair. It's softer than I expected, and the sensation sends a shiver down my spine.

Declan groans against my mouth, and that sound. Fuck, that sound, is enough to undo me. It's raw, unfiltered, and it feels like it comes from somewhere deep inside him. He shifts closer, his thigh pressing against mine, his hand gripping my hip like he's afraid I might pull away.

But I'm not going anywhere.

His tongue flicks out, tentative, and I part my lips, letting him in. The kiss deepens, and suddenly, there's nothing hesitant about it. Declan takes control, his mouth moving against mine with a confidence that's both infuriating and intoxicating. It's a power struggle, and neither of us is willing to back down.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together. Declan's eyes are blown wide, his pupils dark with something I can't quite name.

"Shit," he mutters, his voice rough. "That was—"

"Yeah," I interrupt, because I know exactly what he's about to say. That was unexpected. That was insane. That was more than either of us knows how to handle right now. "It was."

His hand is still on my hip, his thumb brushing back and forth in a way that's almost... tender. It's so at odds with the intensity of the kiss that I can't help but smile.

"What?" he asks, his brow furrowing.

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "It's just... you're full of surprises, Declan."

He laughs, a low, breathy sound that sends heat pooling in my stomach. "Yeah, well. So are you."

We sit there in the aftermath, the silence between us charged but not uncomfortable. My mind is racing, trying to make sense of what just happened, what it means. But for once, I don't feel the need to overanalyze it. Maybe I'll regret this later, maybe I won't. All I know is that right now, this feels right.

"So," Declan says after a while, his voice breaking through the quiet. "What now?"

I glance at him, my lips twitching into a grin. "You're asking me? You're the one who kissed me."

"Pretty sure you kissed me first," he counters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his pretty mouth.

"Details," I say, rolling my eyes. But the smile on my face doesn't fade. "I guess we... figure it out."

"Yeah," he says, nodding slowly. "Figure it out."

The weight of his words settles between us, heavy but not unwelcome. It's a lot, but it's not too much. Not yet.

I stand, grabbing the empty beer bottles from the coffee table and carrying them to the kitchen. Declan follows, leaning against the counter as I toss the bottles into the recycling bin.

"You know," he says, his tone lighter now, "this doesn't change anything. With Valarie."

I meet his gaze, my expression serious. "I know. And it doesn't have to."

He nods, and for the first time since this whole thing started, I see a flicker of relief in his eyes. "Good. Because whatever this is... I don't want it to mess with what we have. All of us."

"Me neither," I say, and I mean it. Whatever this is, it doesn't take away from what we have with Valarie. If anything, it adds to it.

We stand in silence, like neither of us know what to say. All I know is that I want to kiss him again.