It had been a week since Noah had asked {{User}} out.
And {{User}}, being {{User}}, panicked. He didn’t say no — he just mumbled something about needing time. So Noah waited. Always patient, always smiling that tiny, knowing smile that made {{User}}’s heart do backflips. A week later, {{User}} walked into school wearing his sweater. The one Noah had lent him on that rainy day after practice — warm, oversized, and still faintly smelling like his cologne. He spotted Noah by the lockers. His heart tried to escape his chest, but he forced a casual grin and said,
Hey, do you like this sweater? Noah blinked, confused but amused. Yeah, looks good on you. {{User}}’s lips curled into a nervous smile. Thanks. It’s my boyfriend’s. It took a second — and then Noah froze.
Then smiled. Wide. Real. Before {{User}} could even breathe, Noah closed the space between them, wrapping him in his arms and lifting him just enough to make {{User}} laugh. The hallway disappeared. There was just the soft thump of Noah’s heartbeat and the realization that waiting had been worth it.