#bianconeri

The second he walks in the door, you know.

It’s in the way his shoulders slump, in the way his bag hits the floor instead of the hook, in the way he kicks off his sneakers like they’ve offended him personally. He doesn’t even bother greeting you with his usual cheeky smile or half-muttered “missed you.” No teasing. No jokes. He just drops everything and beelines straight for you.

“Hey,” you say gently, standing up from the couch like you’re preparing for impact.

Kenan wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck like you’re home and he’s been homesick for days. You don’t even try to tease him, he feels heavy. Not sad exactly, just… exhausted.

“Tough week?” you whisper, hands sliding up his back.

He hums, nodding against your skin. “Too much. Too loud. Too many people.”

You nod, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says, then quickly amends, “Not yet.”

You press a kiss into his hair, already moving back toward the couch and tugging him with you. He follows without resistance, like he’s on autopilot now that he’s in your orbit.

When you sink into the cushions, Kenan doesn’t even ask, he just crawls onto the couch beside you, shuffling until his head is resting on your chest, one arm draped lazily over your stomach, legs tangled up with yours like he physically can’t get close enough.

You settle your hand in his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp, and he melts.

There’s this tiny sound he makes when you do that, like a relieved little sigh, muffled against your hoodie. He’s not really saying anything, but you feel the tension unravel from his body like thread slipping loose.

“I needed this,” he mumbles after a minute, voice muffled against you.

You smile, soft and small, and tilt your head so your chin rests against his curls. “I kinda figured.”

Kenan turns his face into your chest, nosing at the fabric like he’s trying to disappear into you. “Can we stay like this all day?”

You glance at the clock, it’s 3:42 PM on a rainy Thursday, and honestly? The world can wait. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“Good,” he murmurs, and it’s so soft you barely catch it. “You’re the only person I wanna be around right now.”

He sounds half-asleep already, like just being next to you is enough to start resetting his system. His fingers are doing that thing again, too, lightly tracing patterns on your side. Absentminded. Thoughtless. Intimate.

You keep running your hand through his hair, twirling a piece around your finger just to watch it fall back into place. “I thought you said you hated being clingy.”

“I do,” he says into your chest. “Just not with you.”

Your heart does this little thing where it flutters and aches at the same time. Because he’s so closed off around the world. So polished and professional and composed. Always the perfect version of himself. But with you? He lets go. He doesn’t have to be perfect. He just gets to be.

“Babe,” you say, teasing lightly, “You’re so clingy right now it’s actually concerning.”

He groans. “Shut up. You love it.”

You laugh and nod, even though he can’t see. “Yeah. I kinda do.”

Silence falls again, but it’s the warm kind. The kind that wraps itself around you and lets you breathe slower. Outside, the rain taps against the windows, and inside, Kenan’s breathing deepens as your fingers move through his hair, slow and steady.

Eventually, you feel his grip loosen, just slightly, like sleep is finally dragging him under.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” you whisper, pretending to be scandalized.

Kenan doesn’t even lift his head. “Mmhmm.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m tired. Let me be in love and sleepy in peace.”

You blink. The words hang in the air a second longer than they need to. You know he means it, he’s always meant it, but still. That was probably the most casual love confession you’ve ever received.

“Okay,” you whisper, smiling like a fool. “I’ll allow it.”

“Mmm. Thanks.”

He’s gone after that. Fully relaxed. Out cold. You shift just enough to grab the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over both of you, careful not to disturb the boy sprawled across you like a weighted blanket.

Your hand finds his hair again.

And you stay like that.

For hours.