The night after the café, sleep was once again a stranger. I lay in bed, clutching my phone, staring at his chat window. His words from earlier kept circling in my mind,steady, certain, almost impossible to ignore.
I don't want to be just your friend. I'll be here.
My roommate was fast asleep, her soft snores filling the room, but my mind refused to quiet down. I scrolled through our old chats, months of conversations that seemed so ordinary on the surface class schedules, hostel gossip, random jokes but beneath them lay a familiarity that now felt heavier, fuller, almost electric.
And then, as if he had been thinking the same thing, my phone buzzed.
Him: Are you awake?
My heart jumped. I typed back quickly.
Me: Maybe. Why?
Him: Come outside. Just for a minute.
I stared at the message, torn between excitement and panic. Outside? At this hour? What if someone saw us? What if my hostel matron caught me? But even as those thoughts ran through my head, my feet were already moving, slipping into my slippers, my hoodie tugged tightly around me.
The night air was cooler than before, brushing against my skin as I stepped quietly out of the hostel. He was there, leaning against the gatepost, the faint glow of his phone lighting up his face until he looked up and saw me.
"You came," he said, smiling like he had doubted I would.
"I shouldn't have," I whispered, glancing nervously around. "If anyone sees me—"
"No one's watching," he interrupted softly, stepping closer. "It's just us."
And suddenly, it was. The world felt muted, the usual noise of campus replaced by the hum of crickets and the faint buzz of street lamps.
"Why did you call me out here?" I asked, my voice sharper than I meant it to be defense against the way my heart was already betraying me.
"Because I couldn't stop thinking about you," he admitted. "I thought maybe if I saw you one more time tonight, I could sleep."
I froze, heat rushing to my cheeks. "That's ridiculous."
"Maybe." He shrugged, that half-smile tugging at his lips. "But it's true."
There was silence then, but not the uncomfortable kind. The type that buzzed with unspoken words, with tension so thick I could feel it in my chest.
I swallowed hard, finally whispering, "You're going to make this harder for me."
"Harder?" he echoed.
"Yes," I said, hugging my arms around myself. "Because I keep telling myself to be careful. That maybe it's just better to stay friends. But then you say things like this, and I…" My voice trailed off, the words too tangled to finish.
He stepped closer, closing the gap between us. His scent clean, warm, familiar wrapped around me. "And you what?" he asked gently.
My throat tightened. I could barely look at him, but when I finally did, his eyes locked onto mine, steady and patient.
"And I forget why I was even scared in the first place," I whispered.
Something shifted in his expression then, softer, deeper, as if my words had peeled back a layer he had been waiting to see.
"Good," he murmured. "Because I don't want you scared of me. I just want you to see what's already there."
The silence after that was unbearable. My pulse hammered in my ears, my breath caught in my chest. His hand lifted slowly, hesitating before brushing lightly against mine.
"Koko," he said, my name sounding like something sacred on his lips. "Can I…?"
I knew what he was asking. I felt it in the way the air tightened around us, in the way my body leaned before my mind could stop it.
But just as his face inched closer, the loud slam of a hostel gate echoed down the street. We both startled, stepping back quickly as laughter spilled from a group of students heading toward their dorm.
My heart was still racing when he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Bad timing," he muttered, half amused, half frustrated.
I couldn't help laughing, though it came out shaky. "Maybe it's a sign."
He arched a brow, his eyes glinting. "A sign of what? That the universe doesn't want me to kiss you yet?"
"Yet?" I repeated, my voice catching.
"Yet," he confirmed without hesitation. "Because it's going to happen, Koko . I've waited this long and I can wait a little more. But don't think for a second I'm letting you slip away again."
And just like that, he turned, walking me back toward my hostel gate, his words still crackling in the air around me like electricity.
I stood there long after he left, my lips tingling with the ghost of something that almost happened, my chest aching with the weight of everything unsaid.
Back in my room, my friends pounced immediately, demanding details I wasn't ready to give. I waved them off with half-truths, crawling into bed with my phone clutched tight.
And there it was, another message waiting for me:
Him: Sleep well. I'll dream of you.
I pressed the phone to my chest, biting back a smile I couldn't contain.
Maybe I was still scared. But I also knew one thing for certain: I was already his, long before I ever said yes.