And when you’re close I feel like coming undone - Daniela Avanzini x fem!reader
Synopsis : you and Daniela almost cross the line… key word : almost.
You don’t talk about what happened in the library. You don’t bring it up, you don’t even hint at it, and Daniela doesn’t either, which somehow makes it worse, because the silence feels intentional, like something both of you are choosing to ignore even though it’s sitting right there between you, heavy and impossible to miss. Everything goes back to normal, or at least it tries to. Daniela still walks beside you across campus, still too close, still brushing against you like space doesn’t exist between you, still reaching for your sleeve, your wrist, your hand like it’s instinct, like it’s something she doesn’t even think about. But now you notice everything. Every touch lingers longer than it should, every glance feels loaded, every silence stretches just a little too far.
You blink, pulled out of your thoughts.
You huff quietly, looking down at your notebook.
“You get that look on your face,” she says, leaning slightly closer, her voice softer now, almost teasing, “like you’re trying to solve something that doesn’t exist.”
You swallow, forcing yourself not to look at her.
“Maybe I just like thinking.”
She doesn’t answer right away, and the silence that follows feels different, quieter but heavier, like she doesn’t believe you but isn’t sure how to push it further. Then she nudges your knee lightly under the table.
You glance at her for a second, and that’s enough to make your chest tighten again, because she’s already looking at you, already watching you like she’s trying to figure you out. You look away first, of course you do.
That night, the dorm is quieter than usual, the kind of quiet that settles in slowly and wraps around everything until it feels almost too still. You’re sitting on your bed with your laptop open, pretending to work even though you’ve read the same sentence at least six times without understanding any of it. Daniela is in the room, moving around and getting ready for bed, completely unaware of the way your attention keeps drifting back to her without your permission, or maybe she is aware, you don’t know anymore.
“Are you actually studying,” she asks, glancing at you over her shoulder, “or are you just staring at your screen again?”
“You said that an hour ago.”
“You’ve been on a break for forty-five minutes.”
You sigh and close your laptop just to prove a point, even though you’re not sure what point you’re trying to make.
She smiles, soft and easy, and for a second everything feels normal again, familiar, safe. Then she crosses the room and comes to your bed. Of course she does. She doesn’t ask, doesn’t hesitate, she just climbs in beside you like she always does, like it’s hers as much as it is yours, like this is something established and unquestioned. Your breath catches anyway. She settles in close, too close, her shoulder pressing against yours, her leg brushing yours, her presence filling up all the space around you until there’s nothing left untouched.
“I’m always quiet at night.”
She hums softly like she’s considering it, then shifts slightly and turns just enough to face you more directly.
She studies you for a second, her expression softer now, less teasing and more serious.
The room feels smaller, too small. You look down, avoiding her gaze.
You don’t respond, because if you do you’re not sure what’s going to come out, and the silence stretches again, thick and uncomfortable. Then she moves closer, closer, her hand finding your arm first, light and hesitant in a way that feels new, like she’s testing something instead of assuming it.
Your head snaps up immediately.
Too fast, too defensive. Her eyes flicker, catching it.
You hesitate, your thoughts tangling together, your heartbeat picking up in a way that feels impossible to control.
Her voice isn’t sharp, but it’s firm enough to make your chest tighten.
You look at her, really look at her, at how close she is, at the way her hand is still resting on your arm, at the way her eyes don’t leave yours this time, and suddenly it’s too much, all of it.
The words slip out before you can stop them. Her expression changes instantly, confusion flashing across her face.
“Then why is it a problem now?”
Because it’s different now, because it means something now, because you can’t pretend it doesn’t anymore, but you don’t say any of that.
The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret them immediately, because Daniela pulls back, not dramatically and not angrily, but just enough that the absence is obvious, just enough that you feel it like something’s been taken from you.
And that hurts more than anything else. You hate it, you hate the distance, you hate that you caused it.
She shakes her head slightly.
It’s not fine, you can hear it and you can see it, and for a second neither of you moves, the space between you suddenly too noticeable, too real. Then slowly she shifts again, closer, not all the way but enough. Her hand finds yours carefully this time, like she’s giving you a choice, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to.
Your breath catches. You don’t pull away, you can’t. Her fingers slide between yours, hesitant at first, then more certain when you don’t stop her, when you don’t move, when you let her. The contact is softer than usual, more deliberate, more aware.
The question does something to you, because she’s never asked before, because she’s never needed to, and now she does.
She watches you for a second longer, like she’s making sure, like she’s memorizing something, and then her gaze drops briefly to your lips, just for a second, but you see it. This time you don’t look away. The air shifts and everything slows. Her thumb brushes lightly against your hand, and then she leans in slowly and carefully, like she’s giving you time to stop her, like she’s waiting for you to change your mind.
Your heart is pounding, your breath uneven, your thoughts completely gone as the space between you disappears inch by inch. She’s so close now, close enough that you can feel her breath, warm and unsteady against your skin, close enough that if you moved just a little—
A loud knock on the door shatters everything.
You both pull back instantly, like the moment never existed, like it didn’t almost happen, like it didn’t matter.
“Daniela? Are you in there?”
Her name hangs in the air, too loud, too real. Neither of you moves at first, neither of you speaks.
She gets up anyway, of course she does, and just like that the moment is gone. But the feeling stays. It lingers in the space between you, in the silence that follows, in the way neither of you looks at the other for a little too long, because this time you both felt it, and neither of you can pretend you didn’t.
Part IV is there ahah ! Hope you enjoy❤️