Tell me how to love you

The morning light filtered in hesitantly, casting soft rays across Mark's room. It was quiet, almost unnervingly so. The remnants of last night's storm still lingered in the air, a faint humidity clinging to the window panes, and the world outside seemed to be holding its breath. The sky, a pale gray, hung heavy with the promise of more rain—yet it didn't feel like it was going to arrive. It was as though the storm had passed through with finality, leaving only the cool, damp atmosphere behind.

Mark lay motionless in his bed, his body tangled in the sheets, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, the occasional creak of the house settling, but otherwise, there was an oppressive stillness. It matched the unease he felt inside, the kind of quiet that came after a big storm—both the literal one and the emotional one brewing inside of him.

His mind was racing, too fast, too loud. The events of the past couple of days, particularly the phone call with Cristiano, wouldn't leave him. It was like a record stuck on the same song. Cristiano's voice had been sharp in his memory. "love doesn't come with a manual, and taking risks is necessary for something real"

The kiss on her cheek, so gentle, so tentative—he could still feel the softness of her skin against his lips. It had left a warmth, a lingering connection that hadn't faded overnight. But now, in the quiet morning light, everything felt more complicated. There was the undeniable feeling of something real between them, a pull that he couldn't explain, and it terrified him.

What if i did something wrong? What if I'm just diving too much into this? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but somewhere beneath it all, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe this was what he had been missing. A chance to really feel something. A chance to not hold back for once.

He glanced at his phone on the nightstand. It sat there, quietly mocking him. He wanted to reach for it. He wanted to see if she had messaged him. But at the same time, he felt like if he picked it up, he'd be exposing himself to whatever came next, and that scared him more than anything.

His hand hovered above the phone for a moment before he slowly picked it up, the weight of it in his hand making everything feel more real. He unlocked the screen. His heart did a quick, nervous jump in his chest.

There was a message. From Emma.

He stared at the screen for a few seconds, blinking as his eyes refocused. Her name, clear and simple, was there. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, and for a moment, he just let the silence fill the space between him and the message. He could feel his chest tightening as the words he had already written in his head started to collide with the doubts that wouldn't stop circling. What if she thinks I'm weird? What if I'm pushing this too hard?

The message read:

[Hey, Mark. Just wanted to check in and see how you're doing after last night. Was thinking about you. Hope you're okay.]

[are you sleeping, why are you not answering]

Her words were so simple, yet they hit him in ways he couldn't fully explain. She was thinking about him. The fact that she had thought of him after everything—the kiss, their conversation, all of it—it was like a warm thread being pulled through him, weaving itself into his chest. And then, of course, the fear came rushing in, just as quickly. What if she's just being polite? What if she doesn't feel the same way?

He leaned back against his pillows, staring at the message. The weight of his hesitation grew. What do I say? He didn't want to overthink it, but there it was. The words were sitting in front of him, waiting for him to respond. He wanted to show her that he was feeling something too, but he didn't want to come off too strong.

With a slow exhale, Mark started typing, his fingers hesitant at first. The rhythm of his thoughts and the movement of his fingers were almost like a slow dance, both tentative and full of possibility.

[Hey, Emma. I'm doing okay, thanks for checking in. It was really nice talking last night. You've been on my mind too. Hope you're doing well.]

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't as deep as he felt inside, but it was real. It was honest. He hit send, his thumb pressing the button a little harder than he intended. Once the message was gone, there was a brief moment of stillness, of holding his breath as if the universe itself was waiting for her response.

Mark placed the phone down on the nightstand, his pulse racing. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest. He couldn't help himself from wondering what would happen now. Would she text back? Would she be as unsure as he was? The doubt started to creep in, but he pushed it back, telling himself that if he wasn't willing to be open now, what was the point of even trying?

A long silence stretched between them. The clock on the wall ticked, and he could hear the slight creaks of the house settling in the quiet. It was strange—waiting like this. Waiting for someone to respond when everything felt so big, so important.

He glanced over at the phone again, as if willing it to buzz. And just as the thought crossed his mind, the phone vibrated softly.

His heart skipped a beat.

He grabbed it immediately, his breath catching as he unlocked the screen, barely able to keep himself from grinning at the thought of what could be waiting for him.

The message appeared:

"Glad to hear it. I've been thinking about you too, actually. It's nice to have someone to talk to like we did last night. I feel like we really connected. I'd like to keep talking, see where this goes."

There it was. She felt it too. She wanted to keep talking.

The words settled over him like a warm blanket, and for the first time that morning, a quiet, soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She wants to keep talking, he thought, as if the words alone were a lifeline. She's not pulling away.

It was small, but it meant so much. The feeling of being seen—of not having to hide what was growing between them—was a relief. There was no more wondering, no more second-guessing. She was in this, too. And that was more than enough.

He set the phone back down on the nightstand and lay back against the pillow, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the realization wash over him. This wasn't something fleeting. This was real, even if it was still new and uncertain. He wasn't alone in this anymore.

Mark took a deep breath, his fingers now moving with purpose. He picked up his phone again, his hands steadier now.

"I'd really like that too, Emma. It feels nice, talking to you. I think we could make something real out of this."

It was simple. It was honest. And for the first time in a long while, Mark felt like he was being completely honest with himself. This wasn't just a random text or an easy connection. This was something he wanted to explore. And if he wanted to get anywhere with her, he had to take the risk.

He sent the message before he could think twice.

For a long moment, Mark just lay there, his heart still racing, but this time with excitement. The silence around him didn't feel suffocating anymore. It felt full—full of possibility. Full of something he had almost forgotten how to feel.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't certain. But it was real. And that was all he needed right now.

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A/N: they are a good match i think let me know how you feel about them.

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