The soft quiet of Ethan's apartment wrapped around them like a warm cocoon. Amelia was curled securely against him, her head resting beneath his jaw, her hand resting lightly over his chest. Ethan's arm held her in a way that felt protective without ever feeling restrictive.
She could hear his heartbeat.
Slow.
Steady.
Comforting.
Ethan's fingers traced slow, gentle lines along her arm—barely there, but enough for her to feel grounded.
After a long stretch of peaceful silence, Amelia whispered softly:
"Ethan… do you feel this too?"
He angled his head slightly.
"Feel what?"
She hesitated, gathering the courage to name it.
"This… closeness," she said quietly.
"This comfort. This calm. This… thing between us."
Ethan didn't rush an answer.
He breathed slowly, then spoke in a warm, low tone.
"Yes," he said.
"I feel all of it."
Her heart fluttered softly.
"What does it feel like for you?"
Ethan's fingers paused for a moment on her arm.
"Like I'm holding someone who matters," he said truthfully.
"Someone I want to protect. Someone I want to understand. Someone who makes me feel more grounded than I have in a long time."
Amelia swallowed quietly, emotion rising in her chest.
"That's… a lot," she whispered.
"It's honest," Ethan said gently.
She lifted her head a little to look at him.
His eyes were warm, open, steady—watching her like she was something delicate, something treasured.
"I'm afraid of wanting too much," Amelia murmured.
Ethan cupped her cheek softly, his thumb brushing over her skin in a slow, tender arc.
"Amelia…" he whispered, "you're allowed to want me. You're allowed to want closeness. None of it will push me away."
Her breath shivered lightly.
"I'm not good at… emotional things."
"You're doing beautifully," he said.
"Every word, every moment—you're giving as much as you can."
She leaned into his hand slightly, eyes soft.
"And what about you?" she asked.
"Are you afraid of anything?"
"Of hurting you," Ethan admitted quietly.
"Of rushing you. Of overwhelming you. Of not pacing myself with your heart."
Amelia blinked at how sincere he sounded.
"I don't feel overwhelmed," she said softly.
"I feel… understood."
Something in Ethan's expression softened deeply.
"Then I'm doing something right," he murmured.
She smiled gently, her fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt near his collarbone.
"Do you always talk like this?"
"Only when I'm with someone who matters," he whispered.
Her chest tightened with a warm ache.
"You're going to make me fall for you," she whispered before she could stop herself.
Ethan froze—not out of fear, but out of something deep, something warm, something careful.
His voice came out quiet, tender.
"Then fall gently," he whispered,
"and I'll be right here to catch every piece."
Her breath trembled.
"You say things like that," she murmured, "and I don't know where to put the feeling."
"Put it here," Ethan said, guiding her hand to rest over his heart.
"Right here. I have space."
Amelia's eyes softened as her hand rested against his heartbeat.
"You're so calm," she whispered.
"You make me want to be," he said.
Slowly, her fingers curled into the fabric over his heart, anchoring herself there.
"Ethan?" she whispered.
"Yes?"
"I think I want to stay close like this… more often."
Ethan's breath warmed the top of her hair.
"Then we will," he murmured.
"As often as you want. For as long as you want."
She shut her eyes, letting the warmth of his words sink all the way in.
"And you won't pull away?" she asked quietly.
"Not unless you ask me to," Ethan said.
"I'm here, Amelia. I'm not going anywhere."
She melted fully into him then, letting herself believe it, letting herself rest in the safety of his promise.
Ethan's arms tightened just enough to hold her securely, gently.
As she breathed him in, Amelia realized:
This wasn't just comfort.
This was connection.
Growing, deepening, settling quietly into her heart.
And she wasn't afraid of it anymore.