The click of the lock is still echoing. Riven hasn't moved. Neither have you. His arm is braced against the wall beside your head, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to notice his jaw is tight and his breathing isn't quite steady. Years of shared silences, almost-moments, and conversations that always stopped just short of something real - and now there's a locked door between you and the rest of the world. He's looking at you like he's been waiting a long time to do exactly this. Maybe he has. The question is what you do with the next thirty seconds.