My leg was numb. My arm was numb. My heart was pounding. I could feel his warmth and hear his breath. Every single move he made, I flinched, extreme paranoia creeping in, as I tried to watch his hands from out the corner of my eye.

The darkness was deafening. I couldn’t decide if it was a blanket of safety, or the opposite, fully revealing everything, making my anxieties and vulnerabilities known. He was the one that caused me so much heartbreak and pain, yet fixed me up again, each and every time, even if he remained so unaware.

Thoughts roamed freely in my head, questioning what he was thinking about. Was it possible that he was thinking about how close we were? How our arms, how our legs were touching and the pattern of my own breath, watching me from the corner of his own eye? Was he thinking about how dangerous this was? How dangerous the prospect of him and I even sitting next to each other could turn out to be?

My eyes were front, but my focus was elsewhere. I couldn’t hear over the rising anxiety inside of me, worried to make a wrong move, one that would expose myself and jeopardise everything we had risked just to be here.

My leg was shaking so uncontrollably that he must have been aware of how terrified I was. Probably, he could feel my leg moving against his, even if I couldn’t, even if he’d never admit to seeing my fragility.

All I wanted was to reach for his hand, or for him to reach for mine. All I wanted was to rest my head upon his shoulder and breathe in his smell.

I hoped the darkness would cover us and our illicit acts, because, well, somethings are easier said in the dark. The dark could conceal your mistakes, make them invisible to everyone. People always said stupid things in the dark, you could blame it on the courage that darkness created. I knew that I would live to regret this, but I had to let him know.

“I’m in love with you.” I whispered. Had I even said it loud enough for him to hear?

“I know.” He replied. I guess I had.