contains: fluff, ‘confessing’, humiliation, SLOWburn, smut, makeout sesh, pnv , unprotected sex
you couldn’t tell anyone exactly when angelo leal became your bestfriend.
if someone asked, you’d probably shrug and say it just… happened.
one day he was just another guy you knew.
the next, he was the first person you wanted to tell things to, the person you looked for in a crowded room, the name you expected to see on your phone.
it had never been complicated.
you met a few years ago through nothing particularly exciting. no dramatic first impression. no instant connection. just sarcastic remarks, mutual annoyance, and two people who were convinced they had the other figured out.
somehow, it worked anyway.
somewhere between teasing each other and spending hours together for no real reason, the walls came down without either of you noticing. eventually, showing up at each other's houses stopped requiring an invitation.
angelo sending you random pictures throughout the day. you replying with a joke or one of your own. little things that gave you both another reason to keep talking.
some nights he’d call because he was bored.
some nights you’d call because you couldn’t sleep. neither of you ever acknowledged how those conversations somehow lasted until two or three in the morning.
you’d start with something stupid and end up talking about childhood memories, fears, and things neither of you trusted many people with. sometimes the conversations faded into comfortable silence, neither of you needing to fill the quiet.
angelo wasn’t someone most people felt comfortable around. they knew the loud, cocky, guarded version of him.
you knew the one who sighed when he was exhausted, who admitted when he was scared, who let you see the parts of himself he usally kept hidden.
he trusted you with pieces of himself that no one else got to see. and without realizing it, you started doing the same.
somehow along the way, you became each others first calls.
problem you couldn’t fix? call angelo.
you couldn’t count how many times your phone lit up with his name followed by a simple:
which never really meant are you busy?
and you always did. not because you had to. because you wanted to.
somehow, your routine became predictable. friday nights meant driving around la with no destination, stopping at the same gas station when one of you inevitably got hungry.
he’d grab your usual drink without asking because somewhere along the way, he had memorized the little things.
he noticed when you were quieter than usual. he noticed when you needed something before you even asked.
at the time, you never thought much of it.
that was the dangerous part.
like the kind of friend he was.
but then you started collecting moments without meaning to.
the afternoon you stood in the rain together laughing because you were already soaked.
the night you fell asleep during a movie and woke up hours later with a blanket over you.
the time you mentioned you hated pickles once, and months later he remembered.
tiny things. forgetting things.
you tried to convince yourself everyone had friendships like this.
everyone had a best friend who remembered the little things, who made them smile before they even answered the phone, who made ordinary days feel like something looking forward to.
maybe they did. maybe they didn’t.
but eventually you stopped comparing and started asking yourself questions you didn’t want to answer.
why did his name on your phone make your heart race?
why did his compliments matter more than anyone else’s?
why did every hug feel just a little harder to let go of?
the realization didn’t hit all at once.
there was no dramatic moment where everything suddenly made sense.
one day you caught yourself wondering what he’d think of a shirt you were about to buy.
another day, he was the first person you wanted to tell when something exciting happened.
then someone jokingly asked if the two of you were dating.
it should've ended there.
except later that night, lying awake in the dark, you found yourself wondering why his laugh had bothered you so much.
not because of anything he did.
because of what you realized.
somewhere along the way...
you'd developed deep, complicated feelings for your best friend.
and, worst of all, completely one sided.
not because he had ever led you on. he hadn't.
you knew the difference between the way he treated you and the way he looked at girls he actually liked.
the person who remembered the little things, showed up when you needed him, and could make doing absolutely nothing feel like the best part of your week.
just not in the way you wanted.
so you made yourself a promise.
you would never tell him.
not because you were ashamed of loving him, but because you loved him enough not to make him carry feelings he couldn't return.
he was your safest place. the person you could always count on. losing that making every conversation awkward, every late night drive different, every hug mean something it wasn't supposed to scare you more than keeping it to yourself.
if loving him silently meant keeping him in your life, you could live with that.
or at least, you thought you could.
the following friday looked exactly like every other friday.
your phone buzzed just after seven.
you smiled before you could stop yourself.
that was all the explanation you got.
twenty minutes later, there was two familiar knocks at your door.
you didn’t bother asking who it was. you already knew.
when you opened it, angelo stood there with takeout in one hand and drinks in the other.
he didn’t wait for an invitation. he just walked inside like he always did.
“i was considering leaving you out there.”
he was already halfway into the house when you closed the door behind him, the click of it sounding louder than it should have.
you looked inside the bag.
“i always get your order,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
he looked at you like you'd asked the dumbest question imaginable, and a stupid warmth settled somewhere in your chest.
you hated how easily he could do that.
"you're staring again," he said.
"i’m appreciating free food."
you rolled your eyes, taking one of the boxes from him as the two of you wandered into the living room like you'd done a hundred times before.
he dropped onto one end of the couch without asking.
you took your usual spot beside him, close enough that your knees bumped occasionally, far enough apart that neither of you thought anything of it.
the tv played quietly in the background, mostly ignored. it always was. somehow, your conversations never stayed about whatever was on the screen.
the two of you fell into your usual rhythm easily. he told you about ryan nearly backing into roman’s car, you teased him for making such a big deal out of it, and soon enough you were both laughing like nothing had changed.
he chuckled, shaking his head.
comfort settled over the room like it always did.
except this time, something felt different.
angelo was still joking. still answering you.
still being himself. but his attention kept drifting.
he picked at his food, bouncing his knee, staring at nothing for a little too long.
a few times, he looked like he was about to say something, only to stop himself.
you noticed. you always noticed.
for a moment, you thought about asking.
but you knew angelo. he never talked about something until he was ready. if you pushed, he'd shut down. if you waited, he'd come to you.
so you let the silence exist.
you finished your food while he absentmindedly peeled the label off his drink bottle, the rain tapping softly against the windows.
finally, he set the bottle on the coffee table.
his hands rubbed together once before settling on his knees.
the playfulness that had been there all evening was gone.
not because you knew what he was going to say.
you set your food down beside his.
"yeah," you said quietly. "of course."
for a second, he just looked at you.
like he was trying to figure out how to say whatever had been sitting on his mind all night.
“… ryan told me something."
like your body understood what was coming before your brain did.
"he..." angelo rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "he told me you... have feelings for me."
the tv kept playing. cars passing outside.
everything continued like nothing had happened.
except you couldn't hear any of it anymore.
you stared at him, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. heat crawled up your neck, and suddenly you were too aware of everything your hands, your breathing, the fact that he knew.
you didn't know where to look.
you swallowed, dragging a hand over your mouth as if that could somehow hide the panic written all over you.
“… when did he tell you that?”
his eyebrows pulled together slightly.
you'd spent almost twenty four hours completely unaware that your biggest secret wasn't a secret anymore.
every text. every conversation. every moment you'd spent with him since then... he'd known.
you nodded once, because you didn't trust yourself to do anything else.
there were a hundred things you wanted to say. that ryan wasn't supposed to tell him. that you weren't ready for this. that you were so embarrassed you thought you might throw up or disappear into the couch.
but your mouth wouldn't cooperate.
“i…” angelo started carefully.
you shut your eyes for half a second.
"you're one of the most important people in my life."
each sentence landed heavier than the last.
the sentence you'd spent months preparing yourself for.
the one you already knew was true.
hearing it out loud still hurt anyway.
not because it surprised you.
silence settled between you, heavy and unfamiliar.
the kind neither of you knew how to cross.
angelo studied your face.
"you look... really mad."
his expression tightened.
you shook your head almost immediately.
"you didn't do anything wrong."
you let out a slow breath, trying to keep your voice steady.
you looked down at your hands.
"i told ryan over and over again not to tell you."
"because i already knew you didn't feel the same way."
your eyes stayed fixed on your hands.
"that's why i didn't tell you."
"because this is the exact conversation i didn't want to have."
"because there was no point in talking about it or telling you," you said, your voice clipped and sharp. "i already knew you didn't feel the same. i didn't need to... hear it out loud. it was already embarrassing enough."
the room went silent again.
for a few seconds, you just sat there, unsure what to say.
you stood before you could think better of it.
you grabbed the empty takeout boxes from the coffee table and threw them away, too quickly, too harshly. anything to keep your hands busy. anything except look at him.
behind you, the couch creaked.
"i’m not trying to be an asshole, but can you go, please?"
you finally looked at him.
for the first time since he'd said the words.
you answered without hesitation.
"no, i’m not mad at you. i just wanna be alone right now."
angelo stood there for another second.
like he wanted to fix it, but knew he couldn't.
he grabbed his keys from the coffee table.
walked to the front door.
his hand rested on the doorknob for a second.
then he looked back at you once, like he wanted to say something else, but didn't.
a moment later, the front door clicked shut.
you stood in the middle of the living room, still holding an empty takeout box in your hands.
and the second you heard his car pull out of the driveway...
you finally let the tears flow.
for the first day, you told yourself it made sense.
people needed space after conversations like that. after words that shifted everything and left both of you a little too aware of what had changed.
it was just breathing room.
at least, that's what you kept telling yourself.
you filled the day with errands and little distractions that never quite distracted you.
you replayed the conversation until it stopped feeling like a memory and started feeling like noise.
at first, you checked your phone constantly.
eventually, you turned it face down and tried to stop looking altogether. if he wanted to talk, he would. silence was probably the kindest thing either of you could offer right now.
by the second day, though, the silence had started to feel heavy.
you told yourself he was probably doing the same thing giving you space, choosing his words carefully but it didn't stop you from missing him.
you missed the way he showed up without warning, the way he somehow always became part of your day without either of you planning it. now everything felt strangely unfinished, like your days were waiting for someone who never came.
on the third day, your phone buzzed.
you saw his name before you even fully realized you'd picked it up.
that was it. no explanation. no punctuation. just him. somehow, that was more unsettling than anything longer could ve been.
your heart did something stupid in your chest. you stared at the message until the screen dimmed.
you hit send before you could think too hard about it.
his reply came faster than you expected.
you let out a quiet breath through your nose. of course that was what he'd ask. not are you mad at me? not can we talk? just how are you? like that was the only thing he cared about.
you stared at the words until they blurred slightly at the edges.
you: good. just been busy.
tree dots appeared almost immediately, disappeared, then came back again as if he was typing and deleting and typing again.
another pause followed, longer this time.
your stomach dropped, slow and heavy, like your body had already remembered what it felt like to be in the same room with him before your mind had the chance to catch up.
your thumb hovered over the screen.
not because you didn't want to see him, but because you weren't sure what seeing him would do to you.
you stared at the message for a long moment before typing.
a second later, before you could stop yourself, you added:
you set your phone down carefully, like it had weight now, like it wasn't just a piece of plastic and glass anymore but something that had quietly decided things for you.
you stayed exactly where you were, your phone resting beside you on the couch while your mind refused to do the same.
maybe he just wanted to make sure you were okay.
maybe he wanted to apologize again.
maybe he regretted texting you at all.
maybe trying to be friends wasn't working after all.
by the time there was a knock at your door, you'd already imagined the conversation a dozen different ways. none of them felt right.
not rushed. not hesitant. just enough to make your whole body go still.
your hand stalled on the door handle.
suddenly, it was real in a way the messages hadn't been.
he was standing there exactly like he always did, like nothing about him had changed at all and yet everything had. a takeout bag hung loosely from one hand. the other was tucked into his pocket, like he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. for a second, neither of you said anything.
then he gave you a small smile.
not the easy one. not the loud one.
something quieter, more careful, like he was trying not to scare you off.
you found yourself giving him the same kind of smile without meaning to.
it didn't feel happy. it didn't feel sad either.
it felt like recognition, like your bodies remembered each other before your minds had fully caught up.
the silence that followed was different from the one you'd spent the last two days living in. this one was full of him standing there in front of you, full of the air between you, full of everything neither of you had said yet. it lasted too long to ignore and not long enough to know what to do with.
and suddenly you were hugging him.
it wasn't tentative. it wasn't polite. it was tight in a way that surprised both of you, like something in your chest had been holding its breath for three days and finally gave up all at once. for a moment, neither of you moved.
you just stood there in the doorway, breathing each other in like it was tight in a way that surprised both of you, like something in your chest had been holding its breath for three days and finally gave up all at once.
for a moment, neither of you moved. you just stood there in the doorway, breathing each other in like it was the first time either of you had been allowed to.
then you both pulled back at the same time, almost awkwardly, almost laughing, but not quite.
"sorry," you muttered automatically.
he shook his head once. "don't."
another pause settled between you.
then he lifted the bag slightly, as if remembering it was there.
a weak exhale slipped out of you before you could stop it.
you stepped aside and let him in.
the second the door closed behind him, the house felt different again. not empty this time, just uncertain.
you walked into the living room in silence and stopped beside the couch.
this wasn't going to be like before.
for a moment, neither of you moved, the takeout bag resting between you on the coffee table.
then, almost at the same time, you both reached for the boxes.
it was such a familiar, ordinary thing that it made something in your chest loosen.
you handed him the extra fork without thinking. he took it just as automatically.
some habits didn't disappear overnight.
you opened your box, a small smile tugging at your lips.
it felt almost ridiculous. three days ago, you'd asked him to leave after the most painfully awkward conversation of your life.
you'd cried the second his car pulled out of the driveway.
and now, the two of you were sitting on the same couch, casually eating mexican food like it was any other night.
somehow, it made you smile.
he nodded toward you with his fork.
you immediately looked back down at your food.
a small smirk appeared on his face.
you shrugged, trying to hide it.
he watched you for a second longer, like he knew you were avoiding the answer but wasn't going to push.
that was another thing about him.
he always knew when to push.
instead, he just shook his head and went back to eating.
the room settled into a familiar silence for a while, broken only by the scratches of forks against takeout boxes. it was comfortable.
then angelo set his food down.
you looked up, immediately noticing the subtle shift in him. you knew the signs. the hesitation. the way he always seemed to take one extra second before saying something that mattered.
"i missed talking to you."
but they hit harder than you expected.
"i know it was only a few days," he continued. "but..."
"i don't know. it was weird."
your voice came out softer than you meant it to.
his eyes scanned your face.
and for a second, neither of you said anything.
the thing you both had been avoiding.
even after the awkward conversation and the embarrassment and the hurt.
you still missed each other.
"i didn't know if i should’ve text you," he admitted.
your fingers tightened slightly around your fork.
he gave a small laugh, but there wasn't much humor in it.
"because the last time we talked, you asked me to leave."
you immediately looked away.
“i didn't mean it like that."
the answer came too quickly.
"i know you weren't mad at me."
"but i didn't know if you wanted space."
"i didn't know if you wanted space either."
his eyebrows pulled together.
"why would i want space?"
the way you said his name made him stop.
just acknowledging the obvious.
he looked at you for a second, then gave a small nod, like he was choosing to let the moment pass.
"i don't want you to think i’m only here because i feel bad."
his voice was firmer now.
"i didn't come over because i felt like i had to."
"i came over because i wanted to."
you looked away before he could see too much on your face.
because that was the problem.
that almost made it harder.
"i just don't want things to be weird," he said.
a small, humorless laugh escaped you.
"i feel like they already are."
the honesty surprised you.
most people would've rushed to deny it.
"i just mean..." he exhaled. "i don't want us to stop being us."
because that was exactly what you wanted.
and exactly what scared you.
"i don't want that either."
the words came out before you could overthink them.
his shoulders relaxed slightly.
"because i don't really feel like finding a new person to bother."
and for a second, it felt normal.
then the quiet returned. not uncomfortable. just honest.
you picked at the edge of your container, trying to figure out how to say what you were thinking.
"i don't want you to feel like you have to act different around me."
his expression shifted. "what do you mean?"
"you know what i mean," you said softly.
"now you know. before, you could just be yourself, and now i feel like you're probably going to think about everything you do."
you looked down. "i don't want to think i’m some problem you have to manage."
his face softened immediately. “you aren't."
and you believed him. that was the hardest part. angelo had never been cruel to you. he had never made you feel stupid for caring about him. he had just been someone you loved who couldn't love you the same way.
after a moment, he leaned back into the couch.
"can i ask you something?"
"why didn't you tell me?"
you expected the question, but hearing it still hurt.
his eyebrows pulled together. "knew what?"
you looked down. "that you didn't feel the same."
something in his expression shifted.
"i wasn't waiting for you to magically change your mind," you continued quietly.
"i just liked you. and i loved being your friend too much to risk losing that."
angelo didn't have an answer for that.
after a moment, he nodded. "okay."
it wasn't a solution. it didn't erase the awkwardness between you. but somehow, the distance felt a little smaller.
and for tonight, that was enough.
the first few days after you decided to try again were almost normal.
if someone who didn’t know you saw the two of you together, they probably wouldn’t have noticed anything different. you still laughed. you still argued over stupid things.
angelo still showed up at your house without warning, and you still let him in without asking why he was there.
from the outside, nothing had changed.
the first time was so small that he almost convinced himself he imagined it.
you were watching a movie at his place, though neither of you were paying much attention to it. the movie had always been background noise, something to fill the room while the two of you talked over it, made fun of the characters, or wandered into conversations that had nothing to do with what was playing.
usually, somewhere along the way, you would end up leaning against him. it was never intentional. you’d shift a little closer when you got comfortable, your shoulder brushing his before your head eventually found its usual place against him.
without thinking, he’d lean into you too, resting his head lightly against yours.
it had always been that easy.
that night, you left a careful amount of space between you. not enough for anyone else to notice. just enough that when the credits started rolling, you still hadn’t moved.
angelo glanced over, waiting for the familiar weight of you against his shoulder.
you looked completely at ease, your attention fixed on the screen.
and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, the distance bothered him.
because technically, nothing was wrong.
you weren’t being rude or avoiding him.
you were just sitting on the couch.
but he missed the effortless way you used to exist around him, the way you never seemed to think twice about taking up space beside him.
the realization annoyed him enough that he spent the rest of the movie pretending he wasn’t thinking about it.
the next time it happened, it was the hoodie.
it was almost embarrassing how much he noticed.
you were walking along the beach late one evening, the wind picking up enough that you rubbed your arms and tucked your hands into your sleeves.
before, he wouldn’t have even thought about it.
he would’ve taken off his hoodie and handed it to you.
actually, he probably would’ve complained first.
“you’re a terrible liar.”
then you would roll your eyes and take it.
that was how it always went.
except this time, he didn’t even get the chance.
he was already pulling the hoodie over his head when you looked at him.
“you don’t have to do that.”
but something about them made him stop.
because you weren’t saying it like you were trying to prove you were independent.
you were saying it like you were trying to make sure he knew he didn’t have to take care of you.
like you were trying to make yourself smaller.
for a second, he just stared at you.
then he put the hoodie back on.
somehow, that made it worse.
you looked relieved, like you’d been worried you were asking too much.
not because you were doing anything wrong. you weren’t. you were doing exactly what he’d asked for.
you were treating him like a friend.
so why did it feel like he was losing something?
over the next few weeks, it became impossible not to notice.
you stopped stealing food off his plate.
stopped grabbing his phone out of his hand to see what he was looking at.
stopped sending him random pictures throughout the day.
stopped walking into his room and immediately complaining about something.
stopped interrupting his stories because you had already heard the first half and knew where he was going.
none of it happened all at once.
if you had suddenly become cold, he would’ve understood.
you were still you. you still laughed at his jokes, asked about his day, and cared about him the way you always had.
like every little piece of yourself that used to come so naturally around him was now being measured first.
he hated how much he missed the things he’d never realized he depended on: your interruptions, your teasing, the way you’d complain about his music before stealing his hoodie without asking.
and every time you didn’t, he felt that strange little disappointment he couldn’t explain.
the first time he tried to bring it up, he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
you were sitting in his car outside your house, neither of you in any hurry to leave.
the conversation had settled into the kind of comfortable silence you used to have, though now it felt a little more careful.
angelo glanced over at you.
you looked at him, immediately confused.
“i don’t know. you’re just weird now.”
a small laugh escaped you.
you looked back out the window.
you were quiet for a second.
then you smiled slightly.
“i’m just trying to not make things complicated.”
the words hit harder than he expected.
because you weren’t accusing him.
you weren’t making him feel guilty.
you were just explaining.
and somehow that was worse.
“you’re not making anything complicated.”
for a second, he thought you were going to say something.
instead, you just nodded.
the conversation moved on.
but he thought about it for the rest of the night.
because the truth was, he missed the version of you who didn’t have to think before reaching for him. he missed the easy familiarity the two of you had always shared, and he couldn’t understand why losing it bothered him so much.
as the weeks went on, he found himself trying to bring it back.
he started sending you the same stupid pictures he always had: a weird-looking dog, a ridiculous sign outside a restaurant, his latest failed attempt at cooking because he knew you’d make fun of him.
and slowly, you started responding more.
then one night, you made a joke about something he said, and he laughed so hard he had to look away.
because for a second, there you were.
the one who didn’t filter yourself or stop to wonder if you were making things awkward.
and he realized how much he’d missed that, not because you were funnier or easier to be around, but because you were simply… you.
he didn’t know when it happened.
there wasn’t a single moment where everything changed or some obvious line he crossed. somewhere between trying to get his best friend back and realizing how much he’d almost lost, something shifted.
he started looking for you first whenever he walked into a room. he caught himself saving stories throughout the day because you were the person he wanted to tell them to, and noticing little things he’d never paid attention to before: the way your face changed when you were trying not to laugh, the expressions you made when you were annoyed, the way you always pretended not to care when you cared more than anyone.
somewhere along the way, your attention started mattering in a way it never had before.
when someone else made you laugh, he wished he’d been the reason.
when you were quieter than usual, he noticed before anyone else. without ever meaning to, he’d started measuring his days against you.
every time he caught himself thinking that way, he pushed it aside.
his best friend. the person who trusted him with something that could’ve ruined everything. the person he promised he wouldn’t lose.
so he stopped himself from asking why.
until one night, he didn't.
you were at his house, sitting on the floor beside his bed like you had a hundred times before. music played quietly from his phone, filling the room without either of you paying much attention to it.
for once, everything felt easy again. there was no invisible distance between you, no careful movements or hesitation. you were just there, like you used to be.
angelo scrolled through songs, letting each one play for a few seconds before skipping to the next. then one started, and he looked over.
you immediately shook your head.
"you haven't even heard it."
"because your music taste is horrible."
"my music taste is great."
"that might be the least true thing you've ever said."
you looked at him for a second before laughing.
you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.
and then you laughed again.
a real laugh. the kind he hadn't heard enough since that conversation.
and for a moment, everything felt like it used to except somehow better. because now he knew what it felt like when it wasn't there.
the laughter faded, leaving only the music playing softly in the background.
neither of you said anything.
you just looked at each other, both realizing the moment had shifted.
then you reached for your phone. anything to break the silence. anything to stop yourself from hoping.
but angelo noticed. he always noticed.
and this time, he didn't want you to look away.
the first thing angelo noticed was that you still looked away.
not dramatically. not because you were upset.
that almost made it worse.
you weren't looking away because you were uncomfortable with him. you were looking away because you were trying not to be.
because somewhere along the way, you had convinced yourself that every moment like this meant something you weren't allowed to let it mean anymore.
because he was the reason.
a few months ago, he had sat across from you on this same couch and told you he loved you, but not in the way you wanted him to. he had watched the hurt cross your face. he had watched you immediately try to make it easier for him.
and now you were still doing it.
still protecting yourself.
the realization sat heavy in his chest because he didn't want that anymore.
he didn't want you sitting beside him like you were afraid of taking up too much space. he didn't want you filtering every joke, every touch, every little thing that used to come naturally.
not the version of you who had feelings for him.
not the version of you who had been secretly hoping for something more.
the girl who stole his hoodies and denied it while wearing them. the girl who sent him random pictures because something reminded her of him. the girl who interrupted his stories because she already knew where they were going. the girl who leaned against him without thinking because being close to him had always felt normal.
and the worst part was that he had spent weeks convincing himself he only missed their friendship.
that was the easy explanation.
except friendship wasn't supposed to make him notice when you laughed at someone else's joke.
it wasn't supposed to make him look for you the second he walked into a room. it wasn't supposed to make him feel relieved when you finally stopped holding yourself back for a few minutes.
he had avoided thinking about it because thinking about it meant admitting something he wasn't ready to face.
that maybe when you told him you had feelings for him, you weren't the only one feeling something.
maybe he had just been the only one who didn't know what to call it.
you were staring down at your phone now, pretending there was something important on the screen.
you weren't reading anything.
you were giving yourself an excuse not to look at him.
and something in him hurt at the realization.
you weren't pulling away because you didn't
you were pulling away because you cared too much.
because every time you forgot and acted like you used to, you had to remind yourself that he wasn't yours.
he hated that you still believed that.
he hated that he was the one who made you believe it.
because he didn't want you thinking that anymore.
you could feel him watching you.
you didn't have to look up to know. you always knew when angelo was looking at you.
and that was exactly the problem.
for a moment, you had forgotten to be careful.
you had laughed without thinking. you had teased him like you always did. you had looked at him the way you always had.
you remembered that he hadn't felt the same way before.
you remembered the promise you made to yourself that you weren't going to keep doing this.
because every little moment of closeness made it harder to pretend you were okay with just being friends.
you could breathe again if you stopped looking at him.
but angelo didn't want you to.
he moved before he could overthink it.
before he could talk himself out of it.
before he could come up with all the reasons why this was complicated, why he should wait, why he should say something first.
his fingers touched your chin gently, barely there.
and he waited until you looked back at him.
not the version of him you had already decided couldn't want you.
for once, he didn't try to explain.
didn't try to find the perfect words.
because every word he could think of felt too small.
how was he supposed to explain that he had spent weeks missing things he never thought he would miss?
how was he supposed to explain that he didn't want your careful distance?
that he didn't want you protecting yourself from him?
that he didn't want to be the person you had to recover from?
so he didn't say anything.
he just looked at you for one more second.
it wasn't sudden or demanding. his fingers stayed gentle under your chin, tilting your face up just enough as he leaned in. the first press of his lips was soft warm and careful, like he was giving you time to pull away.
but you didn't. your breath caught, and then you were kissing him back, tentative at first, your mouth moving against his in a slow, disbelieving rhythm.
angelo exhaled shakily into the kiss, his other hand sliding up to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. he tasted like the faint mint from his toothpaste and something sweeter that was just him.
the kiss deepened gradually, his lips parting yours, tongue brushing lightly against your bottom lip before slipping inside.
it was wet and warm and so achingly tender that your chest ached. he kissed like he was savoring you slow, lingering strokes of his tongue, little sucks on your lower lip, a quiet hum vibrating from his throat when you responded.
you pulled back just a fraction, forehead resting against his, breathing hard. "angelo... i thought you didn't..."
your voice came out small, almost trembling.
he didn't move away. his thumb kept stroking your cheek as he looked at you, eyes dark and open in a way you'd never seen. "i didn't think i did," he said quietly.
"but then i couldn't stop missing how you were... how we were with each other before i fucked everything up."
you didn't even let him finish the breath after the words left his mouth. your hand came up hesitantly, fingers brushing the side of his neck, barely there, like you were scared he might disappear if you held on too tightly.
"you didn't fuck anything up," you whispered.
angelo let out a shaky exhale, leaning into your touch. his eyes closed for a second, like the gentleness of your hand on his neck was almost too much. "it feels like i did," he murmured, voice rough. then he opened his eyes again, looking straight at you.
"but i’m done pretending i don't want this. i want all of it with you."
then he kissed you deeper, more sure this time, tongue sliding against yours in slow, filthy strokes that made heat pool low in your belly. one of his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you closer until you were half in his lap on the floor.
you melted into him, fingers threading into his hair as the kiss grew heavier, more desperate. angelo let out a low sound against your mouth, almost a groan, and shifted so he could stand without breaking away from you.
his hands stayed firm on your waist, guiding you up with him.
"come on," he murmured against your lips, voice rough but soft.
you nodded, barely able to think straight.
he helped you up just enough to move the short distance from the floor to the mattress, his hands steady on your waist as he guided you back. the second you were on the bed, he followed, easing you down gently so he hovered over you, never fully breaking the kiss.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and searching. "do you still want this?" he asked, thumb brushing your cheek again.
"yeah," you whispered. "don’t stop."
that was all he needed. angelo kissed you again, slower this time, as his hands slid under the hem of your shirt. he took his time peeling it off, lips following the path of his hands kissing your stomach, the curve of your ribs, the hollow of your throat.
every touch felt reverent.
"you’re so beautiful," he breathed against your skin, like he was realizing it all over again.
your shirt hit the floor, then his. his skin against yours felt overwhelming in the best way warm and solid and so familiar, yet brand new.
he unhooked your bra with careful fingers, kissing across your chest as he bared you to him. when his mouth closed around your nipple, tongue slow and warm, you arched into him with a soft gasp. he hummed in response, like your reaction was everything.
he kept going, patient and focused, until you were squirming under him. only then did he sit back, eyes locked on yours as he helped you out of the rest of your clothes.
his own followed, and for a moment he just looked at you, taking you in like he wanted to memorize every inch.
then he was back on you, settling between your legs in the way that felt most natural.
his hand slid down your body, fingers gentle but sure as he touched you where you were already aching for him.
"fuck... you're so wet," he murmured, voice low and awed. he circled your clit slowly, watching your face the whole time. "that feel good?"
you nodded quickly, breath catching.
he kissed you again, deeper, as two fingers pressed inside you, curling just right. he took his time, learning exactly what made your hips lift off the bed and your breath hitch. every moan you let out seemed to encourage him more. "that’s it... just like that. you sound so pretty."
by the time he finally positioned himself between your thighs, you were shaking. he braced one forearm beside your head and reached for your hand, threading your fingers together firmly. he held it beside your head, grounding you.
"look at me," he said softly.
you did. the second your eyes met, he pushed in slow, steady, stretching you open. the fullness made you gasp, and he paused halfway, forehead dropping to yours.
"oh god," he whispered, squeezing your hand.
"you feel... incredible. so tight around me."
he stayed there, letting you adjust, kissing you softly until the slight burn melted into pure pleasure. only then did he sink the rest of the way in, a low groan rumbling in his chest.
"oh my God," you breathed, overwhelmed by how right it felt.
angelo started moving deep, rolling thrusts that made your toes curl. he never looked away from your face, watching every reaction like it mattered more than anything. your joined hands stayed locked tight, his grip strong and steady as he rocked into you.
he pressed his forehead to yours, breathing shakily as he moved inside you. "you feel so fucking good," he whispered, the words rough and quiet, like he was almost surprised by it. "better than i imagined."
his free hand slid under your hip, tilting you slightly so he could sink even deeper.
the new angle made you moan loudly, a broken sound you couldn't hold back as pleasure flared hot through your body.
"right there?" he asked, voice low and a little breathless, still moving in that same perfect rhythm.
"mhmm," you managed, the sound desperate and moany as your head pressed back into the pillow. "right there fuck, angelo..."
every thrust was deliberate, hitting that spot inside you that made sparks shoot up your spine. he kept the pace steady but intense, grinding against you on every downstroke, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, your mouth. your hands never breaking apart his thumb stroking over your knuckles like an anchor while the rest of his body moved against yours.
you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, and he moaned quietly at the shift.
"yeah... hold onto me," he encouraged, voice warm. "i’m right here."
the pleasure built slowly, powerfully, until it felt almost too much. angelo could tell. he kept the same rhythm, forehead pressed to yours, breathing with you.
"come on, baby," he whispered, squeezing your hand tighter. "let go for me."
the words, the way he was looking at you, the perfect drag of him inside you it all crashed over you at once. you came hard, crying out his name as your body tightened around him. angelo groaned, burying his face in your neck as he followed right after you, hips stuttering deep inside as he finished.
for a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the quiet music still playing from his phone. he stayed buried inside you, chest pressed to yours, your joined hands still clasped beside your head. neither of you moved to pull apart.
angelo kissed your temple, then your cheek, then your lips soft and lingering.
for a while, neither of you said anything.
you just stayed there, close, letting yourself believe that this was real.
but he noticed the way you looked at him.
like you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"i’m not gonna change my mind."
your expression softened, but there was still a flicker of uncertainty there.
but he could tell there was still a part of you that was scared.
"i was scared too, you know."
you frowned slightly. "of what?"
he looked away for a second before meeting your eyes again.
"that i waited too long."
"that you wouldn't believe me. that you'd think i was just trying to fix things because i missed how we used to be."
you were quiet for a moment.
then you shook your head.
and that was the thing that got him.
not because he didn't believe you.
because after everything, after the hurt and the uncertainty, you still saw him as someone safe.
"i know who you are," you continued softly.
"you were my best friend before any of this.
i fell for you because of that."
for a moment, he just looked at you.
like he was trying to understand how you could still look at him the same way after everything.
"you really do trust me?" he asked quietly.
and something in him finally relaxed.
because that was the thing he had been afraid of losing.
not just the possibility of being with you.
the person who knew every version of him and somehow still chose to stay.
his forehead rested against yours again, and this time neither of you felt the need to fill the silence.
there was no wondering anymore.
just the two of you, exactly where you had always ended up.
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