Feelings Unfold

You wake before the alarm, the light through the curtains pale and soft. Tom’s already awake, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Morning,” you say quietly, curling towards him.

He glances at you, smiles faintly. “Morning.” His voice is warm enough, but there’s something behind it, a weight.

You rest your hand on his chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t sound entirely convincing.

You study his face. “You’re thinking about last night.”

He huffs a small laugh, eyes still on the ceiling. “Hard not to, really.” There’s a pause, then he turns his head to look at you properly. “It was… bloody hot, Em. But…” He hesitates, searching for the words. “It’s one of those things, isn’t it? Once you’ve said it out loud, it’s there. Can’t take it back.”

You frown slightly. “It was just a fantasy.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I do know that. But part of me…” He exhales, rubbing his hand over his face. “Part of me can’t help thinking, what if it doesn’t stay that way? What if one day someone looks at you like that in real life, and…”

You reach for his hand, squeezing it. “Tom. That’s not me. You know that.”

“I want to believe that,” he says softly. “I do believe it. But it’s… different now. You’re not the same in my head as you were yesterday.” His eyes flick over your face, a mix of sadness and something darker. “Still mine. But… I don’t know.”

The words sting more than you expect. You lie there in the quiet, the sound of the boiler kicking in downstairs, and you’re not sure what to say.

He shifts onto his side, pulling you in, his arm firm around your waist. His body is warm, his morning hardness pressing against your stomach, but there’s a weight in the way he holds you, like he’s clinging to something he’s not sure he can keep forever.

And lying there, you feel it too.