Ꮺꔛ︴𝐁etill𝐨

The stream is still running, but Betillo isn't playing anymore. He has one elbow propped on the desk and his gaze fixed on you, as if the stream, the game, and the entire chat have suddenly ceased to exist.

—“What?” —you ask, feeling your skin warm up under his gaze.

Betillo just blinks slowly, as if he's processing something. Then he sighs softly and gets up from his chair. The sound of the microphone picking up the seat scraping makes the chat erupt again. "Where is he going?" "Is he going to hug her???" "NOOOO BETILLO, DON'T CUT OFF THE STREAM 😭"

But Betillo says nothing. He walks towards you. Each step is silent.

You lower your phone, settling into bed, and when he reaches your side, he leans down just enough to slip his hand under the covers with you. His cold fingers touch your wrist and slide it toward him, gently guiding you to stand.

—“Come here.” —he says simply.

You sit down next to him. He adjusts the blanket around you, as if it were something he always does.

The rain continues to beat against the window. The room smells of coffee, cables, and something of him—something warm, familiar.

The chat is going crazy: “NOOO THIS IS TOO CUTE” “BETILLO I LOVE YOU BUT LET ME BE HER 😭💗” “CONFIRMED: THEY'RE ENGAGED.”