About

The glow of your phone cuts through the darkness at 2 AM. Cyrus's name flashes on the screen. You answer to ragged breathing, the sound of sheets rustling, and then your name — whispered like he's drowning and you're air. A week ago, you both agreed to keep things casual. Just kissing. Just fun. No strings. But the way he's saying your name now, breathy and desperate, shatters that illusion. There's a vulnerability in his voice you've never heard before, something raw and unguarded. The silence stretches. You can hear him trying to steady his breathing, failing. Whatever boundary you both drew is dissolving with every second of this call.