𝙂𝙧𝙞𝙩 & 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚| 𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. Boothill's eyes fluttered open, his mind still half-lost in the remnants of a dream. He shifted, the familiar weight of the blankets draping over his body, and he stretched with a groan, rubbing a hand over his face.
For a moment, everything felt... normal. The world outside was quiet, and the only sounds were the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant chirping of birds. But then, the realization hit him. He wasn't alone.
His gaze shifted to the side of the bed, where you lay next to him. You were still asleep, your breathing steady, the soft rise and fall of your chest a comforting rhythm in the otherwise still room. Your hair, still messy from the night before, fanned out on the pillow like a halo, and for a second, Boothill simply stared at you, watching the way your face softened in sleep, free from the worries of the world.
He wasn't used to this—waking up next to someone. Not just anyone, either. You.
The thought made his heart stutter, a twinge of something unfamiliar pulling at him. For so long, he'd kept himself distant from everyone, afraid of the connection that could come from letting someone in. But now, with you, in this quiet, peaceful moment, he wasn't afraid. He had been running for so long, but now, with you beside him, he felt like he could just stay for once.
He shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and reached out. His fingers brushed against the back of your hand, lingering there for a moment, the contact so simple but so real. He couldn't help but smile to himself, a rare expression for someone who often kept his emotions tightly guarded.
You stirred, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you slowly woke. Your eyes fluttered open, and when they met his, you smiled sleepily, a soft, contented smile that made his chest tighten in a way he hadn't expected.
"Morning," you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep but laced with warmth.
"Morning," Boothill replied, his voice quieter than usual, as if he was still savoring the peace of the moment. He didn't know how to explain it, but he felt like this was something important. Being here. With you.
You propped yourself up on one arm, your gaze studying him with a gentle curiosity. "You okay?" you asked, your tone soft but laced with concern, as though you could sense the weight behind his quiet demeanor.
Boothill nodded, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah. Just... thinking. About everything." He didn't say more, but the depth of his words was enough to make you shift closer, closing the space between you two.
You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling back, your eyes meeting his again. "You don't have to figure it all out right now, you know," you said, your voice warm and reassuring. "I'm here. We don't have to rush anything. Just... be."
He looked at you, his chest tightening at the way you said those words, the way they felt so genuine. He didn't have to rush, didn't have to figure it all out. All he had to do was be. With you.
You smiled, your fingers gently brushing against his arm, the touch almost tentative but full of meaning. Boothill's breath hitched slightly at the contact, and he found himself drawn to you. There was something about the way you touched him—so careful, yet so confident at the same time—that made his heart race in a way he couldn't quite understand.
He didn't move immediately, unsure of what to do with the intimacy of the moment. But something in your eyes told him that this was safe. This was the place where he could drop his walls without fear of what might happen next.
Without thinking, Boothill reached out and cupped your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You leaned into the touch, closing your eyes for a brief second, and that small, intimate action sent a ripple of heat through him. There was a quiet tension between you, something that neither of you had fully addressed yet but both felt—like the calm before a storm, a soft, simmering energy waiting to break free.
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hand still resting against your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your skin. And then, as if guided by something deeper than thought, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first. It was like a question—a what if—that hovered in the air between you.
The moment your lips met, everything else fell away. The quiet of the room, the soft light filtering through the blinds, the noise of the world outside—it didn't matter. What mattered was this. You. Him. And the way the world felt like it had suddenly shifted in the best possible way.
You responded, your hand resting on his chest as you deepened the kiss just slightly, and Boothill could feel his heart racing, his breath quickening in response. There was no rush, no urgency—just the soft, lingering kiss that felt like it could go on forever. It was new, raw, but real.
When you finally pulled back, your eyes were closed, your forehead resting against his. You didn't say anything at first, just breathing in time with him, as if the two of you had just shared something unspoken—something sacred.
"I've wanted to do that for a while," Boothill admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the confession itself was a fragile thing.
You smiled against his skin, your fingers gently brushing against the back of his neck. "I know," you said, your voice light but carrying a weight of truth. "Me too."
There was a silence, but this one was comfortable, filled with a new understanding. You weren't rushing toward anything, but the quiet intimacy between you spoke volumes. The tension that had been simmering between you both was still there, just beneath the surface, but it wasn't frightening anymore. It was just part of what made this—you—so real.
Boothill leaned back against the pillows, pulling you with him, your body curling naturally beside his. There were no words now, just the soft rhythm of your breathing and the quiet understanding that had settled between you both. He had spent so long alone, pushing people away, afraid of the vulnerability that came with letting someone in. But now, with you, he was learning to just be—learning to let go of the fears that had once held him hostage.
For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was all he really needed.