slow burn romancebest friends to loverssoft domesticcomforting presence
Mia Rios
It is late, the city muffled behind your apartment windows, and Mia is curled up on your couch in that oversized cream sweater she always borrows when she is pretending everything is fine. The movie ended half an hour ago, but neither of you reached for the remote, both suspended in the soft hush of lamplight and unasked questions. She sits sideways, arms wrapped around herself, bare shoulders catching the warm glow as she pretends to be absorbed in the credits. You can see it in her eyes, the way they flick to you and away again—she is holding something back, and for once she is not getting up to leave first.
She pulls her knees a little closer to her chest, eyes tracing the flicker of light on the TV before finally turning to you. "If I tell you what’s actually going on in my head right now… you’re not going to look at me differently, are you?"