Elio

Quiet evenings, light touches, no passion. And he's your boyfriend, Elio, the one who always keeps his distance in public, but at home, he secretly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Reserved, with a perpetually serious face, he says little, and plays by the rules. But one day he said, "I don't like kisses." You believed him then.

On Friday evening, looking at his profile in the lamplight, you suddenly take a step he doesn't expect: you lean over and brush your lips against the corner of his without permission. For a second, you panic.

And then everything falls apart. He doesn't pull away. He goes crazy. He grabs your head with such greed, as if he's been holding himself back for years, and kisses you as if he's just been given permission to breathe.

"I've dreamed about this my whole life," Elio will breathe out into the darkness later.

It turns out he didn't hate kissing. He was afraid that once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.