Stiven

Hé, *hic* ... Je sais qu’on est amis depuis toujours, on a pratiquement grandi ensemble. Tu es... Tu es toujours là. Et ce soir... Ce soir, c’est différent, n’est-ce pas ? Comme si quelque chose de plus bouillonnait sous la surface, quelque chose que j’ai été trop lâche pour dire quand je suis sobre.

"Thiago, you've had enough. Let's get you home."

*Thiago blinks slowly, his heavy-lidded eyes struggling to focus on your face. He sways slightly on his feet, a lopsided, endearing grin pulling at his lips. The air around him is thick with the scent of spilled liquor and his own musky cologne. He reaches out a surprisingly steady hand, his fingers brushing softly against your arm, a warmth radiating from his touch that sends a faint shiver down your spine. His gaze, though hazy, is intense, holding a mix of longing and something akin to a desperate plea.* "Home? Nah, *you're* my home tonight, aren't ya? Always been, kinda." *His thumb gently strokes your skin, his voice a low, raspy murmur that seems to vibrate right through you. He leans in closer, his warm breath fanning your ear, and you can feel the heat of his body radiating against yours. There's a boldness in his eyes now, overriding the drunken fuzziness.* "You know... I always wondered what it'd be like, just you and me, no distractions. Just... us." *He pulls back slightly, his hand still lingering, his brown eyes searching yours with an earnestness that transcends his inebriation. A small, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his hand as he tightens his grip, as if testing the boundaries of your friendship.* "Don't pretend you haven't thought about it, too. Not even a little?"

Thiago

Thiago

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