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Hey everyone!I've gotten into writing one-shots for the boys! Hopefully y'all like it!If you want, here's my Tumblr where I'll also be posting the one-shots:www.tumblr.com/thicknick19Okay bye!
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When you step inside, the bar is already packed. The warm buzz of conversation mixes with the faint sound of music from the speakers. The usual crowd is here—regulars scattered around their favorite tables, drinks in hand, waiting for the real entertainment to begin.Matt and Nick are already seated at a booth near the stage, where the trivia host is setting up. You slide into the spot next to Nick, barely getting comfortable before Matt leans forward a smirk already forming on his face.“Think Chris is gonna show?” he asks like it’s not obvious what the answer is.You roll your eyes, adjusting your drink on the table. “Of course he is. He’d rather drop dead than miss a chance to rub a win in my face.”As if on cue, the door swings open, and he walks in. Chris Sturniolo, wearing that stupidly smug expression that makes your blood boil. His eyes scan the room, landing on your table instantly.You expect him to at least pretend to ignore you, but no - he heads straight over, sliding into the booth on the other side with all the confidence of someone who has never lost a single round of trivia in his life.“Hope you’re ready to lose tonight,” he says, leaning forward with a cocky grin.You snort. “I literally beat you last week.”Chris shrugs. “Fluke.”Nick sighs, looking between the two of you like he’s already exhausted. “You guys ever just… play for fun?”You and Chris both answer at the same time. “No.”Matt chuckles. “Well, I hope you’re both ready because tonight’s game might be fated.”You arch a brow. “Fated?”Nick smirks. “Yeah. You ever heard of the Trivia Night Curse?”Chris leans back, arms crossing. “This better not be some dumb superstition.”“Oh, it’s real,” Matt says, grinning. “Legend has it, if a team wins a certain number of times in a row, they’re destined to be together.”Chris scoffs. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”You roll your eyes. “Agreed.”Nick shrugs, “Hey, believe what you want, but I’m just saying - it’s never been wrong.”You and Chris exchange a look, both equally unimpressed. This is just another night, another trivia game. Nothing more.At least… that’s what you tell yourself.—The trivia host, an older guy named Pete who’s been running this event for years, steps up to the mic and taps it twice to get the room’s attention.“Alright, you nerds, you know the drill,” he says, earning a mix of laughter and groans from the regulars. “Standard rules - teams of two to four, no phones, and if I catch anyone cheating, you’re getting banned for life.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Now, let’s get to it. Who’s teaming up?”You turn to Matt and Nick, expecting the usual. The four of you always stick together, keeping Chris on a separate team just so you can personally crush him.But Matt is suddenly very interested in his drink, and Nick is looking at anything except you.You narrow your eyes. “Wait. What’s going on?”Matt clears his throat. “So… funny story. Nick and I already paired up.”Your stomach drops. “What?”Chris frowns. “What?”Nick grimaces. “Yeah, uh… Pete made us sign up earlier, and there weren’t a ton of spots left, so-”“Which means you two are left as a team,” Matt finishes, fighting a grin.You and Chris both jerk your heads toward Pete, who nods from the stage. “Yup. Last-minute entries get automatically paired. And what do you know, that’s you two. Congrats.”“No,” you and Chris say at the same time.Pete shrugs. “Rules are rules.”Chris turns back to Matt and Nick, eyes sharp. “You did this on purpose.”Nick raises his hands in mock innocence. “I would never.”You glare at Matt. “This is payback for last week, isn’t it?”Matt smirks. “I would.”You groan, running a hand over your face. This can’t be happening. Being forced to team up with Chris? Having to actually work together?Chris sighs, shaking his head. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”You scoff. “Oh, please. I’m the one suffering here.”Pete clears his throat into the mic. “Alright, Team Sign-Up-Two-”You snap your head toward him. “Can we at least change the team name?”Pete shrugs. “If you must.”Chris leans toward you slightly. “We should call ourselves ‘The Winners’.”You glare. “We should call ourselves ‘Not by Choice’.”Chris smirks. “So you admit we’ll win?”You scowl. “Shut up, Chris.”Pete sighs. “Alright, Team Not by Choice, you’re locked in. Let’s play.”The first round begins, and you sink into your chair, dreading every second of what’s about to happen.Because as much as you hate to admit it… Chris Sturniolo might be really annoying. But he’s also really, really good at trivia.And worse?So are you.—The first round kicks off, and despite your initial reluctance, you can’t help but fall into your usual trivia mode - laser-focused, competitive, and determined to win.Unfortunately, so is Chris.The two of you start answering questions at the exact same time, voices overlapping as you blurt out responses.Pete barely finishes reading the first question—“What’s the capital of—”“Ulaanbaatar,” you and Chris say in perfect unison.There’s a brief silence before Pete blinks and nods. “Uh… yeah. That’s correct.”Chris turns to you, brows raised. “Did you just steal my answer?”You scoff. “Please. I knew it first.”Matt and Nick exchange a look, grinning behind their drinks.The game continues, and it’s the same every time. You and Chris keep blurting out identical answers before the other teams even have a chance.Pete: “Which Shakespeare play features—”You & Chris: “Twelfth Night.”Pete: “What’s the rarest blood type—”You & Chris: “AB negative.”Pete: “…I was gonna give multiple choice, but sure. That’s correct.”By round two, you and Chris aren’t just getting the answers right—you’re practically reading each other’s minds.At one point, Chris mutters half of an answer under his breath—“It’s gotta be—”—and without missing a beat, you finish it for him—“The Treaty of Versailles.”Silence.You realize what just happened at the same time he does.Chris blinks. “Did you just…?”Your stomach twists. “That doesn’t mean anything.”Matt smirks. “Oh, it definitely does.”Nick leans forward. “You guys might actually be trivia soulmates.”You whip around. “Do not say that.”Chris looks just as horrified. “Seriously, shut up.”But now you can feel it. The way your brain is in sync with his. The way every answer comes easier when he’s beside you. And worst of all—the way your heart is beating a little faster than it should.The final round approaches, and the stakes are high. If you and Chris win, you’ll officially hit the streak required for the so-called Trivia Night Curse.It’s absurd. It’s just a dumb bar legend.And yet, when Pete grins and announces, “Alright, final question,” you can’t help but hold your breath.Because for the first time since this trivia war started, you don’t just want to win.You’re afraid of what happens if you do.The bar erupts into applause as Pete announces the final score.“And with a perfect game, the winners are—Team Not by Choice!”You don’t celebrate. You don’t even move. You just stare at the scoreboard, pulse pounding in your ears.Chris, beside you, looks just as frozen. For the first time, neither of you is rushing to gloat or argue.Matt, however, has no such hesitation. “Ohhh, no way. This actually happened.”Nick whistles, shaking his head. “Congrats, you two. Guess that means you’re fated now.”That breaks the spell.Chris stands so fast his chair scrapes against the floor. “That doesn’t mean anything.”You shoot up right after him. “Obviously.”Nick smirks. “Sure, keep telling yourselves that.”Chris scowls. “We are telling ourselves that because it’s true.”You cross your arms, feeling heat creep up your neck. “We’re just good at trivia. That’s all this is.”Matt raises an eyebrow. “Right. And that’s why you two were literally finishing each other’s sentences?”Chris scoffs. “It was coincidence.”Matt snickers. “Riiiight.”You don’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, you turn to Chris, glaring. “I’m leaving.”“Good,” he snaps. “Me too.”The night air is crisp against your skin, but it does nothing to cool the heat burning beneath it. You and Chris stand inches apart, locked in a stare-off that feels more like the final round of trivia than an argument.You can’t tell if you’re breathing hard because you’re mad or because—No.The argument is spiraling, voices rising, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.You and Chris are standing so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, can see the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast. But neither of you steps back.“I hate you,” you snap, but your voice wavers, betraying something underneath the anger.Chris’s jaw clenches, his eyes flickering down to your lips for a split second before snapping back up. “Yeah? Then why are you looking at me like that?”Your breath catches. “Like what?”His voice drops, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Like you want this just as much as I do.”Your pulse slams against your ribs. Your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to do something, anything, to get rid of the pressure building between you.You could argue. You could deny it. You could try to convince yourself that this is still just about winning, about proving a point.But instead—You grab his hoodie, fisting the fabric tight, and yank him down.The second your lips crash together, it’s chaos.Chris stumbles back a step, but his hands find your waist, pulling you in as he kisses you back, just as desperate, just as reckless. It’s all heat and frustration, years of rivalry unraveling in an instant.His fingers dig into your sides like he’s afraid you’ll pull away, but you’re not going anywhere. If anything, you push closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, drinking in the way he sighs against your lips.It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s months—years—of pent-up tension snapping all at once, like neither of you can hold it back anymore.Chris moves first, backing you up until your spine meets the wall behind you. His hands slide up, one curling around the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist like he needs to anchor himself. Like if he lets go, this moment might disappear.Your fingers slip from his hoodie and tangle in his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the way his breath stutters. His lips part against yours, and suddenly, the kiss shifts—less hurried, more intentional.Like maybe this isn’t just about anger anymore.Like maybe it never was.You don’t know how long you stand there, lost in him, the world around you forgotten. But eventually, reality catches up.You both pull away at the same time, lips still brushing, breaths uneven.Chris’s forehead rests against yours for a second, his hands lingering on your waist, like neither of you can quite let go yet.When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost like he’s afraid to break whatever just happened.“I don’t think this was ever just about trivia.”Your chest is still rising and falling too fast, your heart still racing like you’re mid-competition.But for the first time in forever, you don’t care about winning.Because he’s right.It was never just about trivia.It never was.
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The first photograph appears on a Monday.It’s slipped beneath your apartment door, crisp and deliberate as if whoever left it wanted to be sure you’d see it. At first, you assume it’s junk—an ad, a misplaced piece of mail. But when you flip it over, your stomach tightens.It’s you.Taken from outside your bedroom window.You stare at it for a long time, fingers trembling at the edges. The image is grainy, taken at night, but unmistakable. You’re in bed, curled beneath your sheets, face relaxed in sleep.You whip around, throwing open your front door, but the hallway is empty.No one is there.—The second photograph arrives on Wednesday.This time, it’s taped to your car windshield. Another shot of you—this one during the day, taken at work. You’re sitting at your desk, unaware.A chill skates down your spine.Someone is watching you.And they want you to know it.—The third photograph comes Friday night.It’s the worst one yet.You don’t want to look, don’t want to acknowledge what you already know. But you do.It’s you again. In your bathroom this time. Undressing.Your breath catches. Your skin burns with a mix of horror and something else, something you don’t want to name.Because whoever is doing this—they aren’t hiding.They’re waiting.—You don’t sleep that night. Or the next.By Sunday, the exhaustion is bone-deep, but your nerves stay razor-sharp. Every shadow outside your window feels like a threat. Every glance over your shoulder sends your pulse hammering. The feeling of being watched presses against your skin like a second layer.And then you see him.You should’ve known it would be him.Chris Sturniolo.A familiar face. Your next-door neighbor. Someone who’s always been there, hovering at the edges of your life. Never quite close, never quite far. And now, when you lock eyes with him from across the street, something in your gut twists.Because he doesn’t look away.He just stands there.Watching.—It’s late when you decide to leave your apartment. You need air. Need space. The walls are closing in, the paranoia gnawing at you like a slow, insidious poison.The park is empty at this hour, streetlights casting long, eerie shadows across the pavement. You tell yourself you’re being irrational, that Chris isn’t—couldn’t be—A sound cuts through the quiet. Footsteps.Steady.Measured.You freeze.A cold sweat breaks over your skin as you turn your head, your breath hitching.He’s there.Not across the street. Not lingering in the distance.Right behind you.A black mask conceals his face, but you know.You know it’s him.Your heart slams against your ribs as he takes a slow step forward.Then another.You run.The chase is breathless, frantic. Your pulse roars in your ears as you weave through the park, past empty benches and flickering lamplights. But the footfalls behind you never falter. He’s not rushing, not desperate.He’s letting you run.Because he knows how this ends.And so do you.When he catches you, it isn’t violent. It isn’t brutal.It’s inevitable.You collide with a tree, chest heaving, lungs burning. He’s there in an instant, hands slamming against the bark on either side of your head, caging you in. The mask obscures his expression, but you can feel his gaze.Hot. Intense. Consuming.His breath fans against your skin. You’re trembling, but it isn’t just fear anymore.You should scream. You should fight.But you don’t.Because deep down, a part of you wanted this.Chris tilts his head, fingers brushing your jaw, a silent question.Then—The sharp click of a camera shutter cuts through the night.You barely have time to process it before he lowers the instant camera, his gloved fingers delicately plucking the fresh polaroid from its slot.Wide-eyed, breathless, caught in his trap.Chris holds it up between two fingers, tilting his head as he studies it, then looks at you again. And in that moment, you understand.He isn’t just watching you.He’s collecting you.His free hand slides along your hip, slow and deliberate, a silent test of boundaries. You don’t stop him. You don’t want to stop him. Your skin burns beneath his touch, anticipation curling deep in your stomach.He leans in, breath ghosting over your lips. “Tell me to stop.”You don’t.Because you don’t want him to.A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and that’s all the confirmation he needs before his lips crash into yours. It’s rough, consuming, like he’s been waiting for this as long as you have. Like the chase was just foreplay for something even darker, something neither of you can deny anymore.The park fades around you. The world narrows to the heat between your bodies, the press of his hands against your skin, the feeling of finally, finally giving in.When it’s over, when you’re both breathless and undone, Chris reaches for the camera again. Another click. Another snapshot.This time, he presses the Polaroid into your palm.A keepsake. A reminder.A claim.You expect him to linger, to whisper something possessive against your skin, but he doesn’t.Instead, he steps back, adjusting his mask like nothing happened, like you aren’t still leaning against the tree, weak-kneed and aching.Then, with one last glance at you, he turns on his heel and walks away.Leaving you there.Alone.Panting.Still wanting.
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☀️ Matt Sturniolo – The Warm, Comforting Scent1. Vanilla Bean & Warm Musk – Soft, familiar, and inviting, like the hoodie he always lets you steal.2. Citrus & Sea Salt – Fresh and energetic, like sunlit road trips and the wind in your hair.3. Freshly Brewed Coffee & Caramel – Sweet, rich, and comforting, like long conversations in a cozy café.4. Coconut & Sandalwood – Playful and carefree, like sunscreen on sun-warmed skin after a day at the beach.5. Leather & Faded Cologne – Slightly rugged but effortlessly cool, like the passenger seat of his car after a long drive.🎭 Chris Sturniolo – The Mysterious, Addictive Scent1. Dark Amber & Smoked Vanilla – Warm, deep, and a little intoxicating, like a stolen hoodie that still smells like him.2. Bergamot & Black Pepper – Sharp yet smooth, the kind of scent that lingers on your skin after a hug.3. Tobacco & Spiced Wood – Slightly dangerous, slightly addictive—like a scent that makes you turn your head twice.4. Leather & Midnight Rain – Bold and brooding, like late-night drives with the windows down and music blasting.5. Vetiver & Cedarwood – Earthy, grounding, and subtly intense, like the scent of his skin after hours spent together.🌙 Nick Sturniolo – The Moody, Alternative Scent1. Black Cherry & Vanilla Bourbon – Sweet but deep, like a favorite old sweater with traces of cologne.2. Palo Santo & Smoked Cedar – Warm, grounding, and slightly mysterious, like incense burning in a dimly lit room.3. Patchouli & Dark Cocoa – Soft and comforting but a little moody—like curling up with a book on a rainy day.4. Fresh Rain & Worn Leather – Clean yet rugged, like a walk through the city after a storm.5. Sandalwood & Musk – Subtle, warm, and a little nostalgic, like the lingering scent of a late-night hug that stays on your clothes.Matt smells like comfort and home.Chris smells like mystery and temptation.Nick smells like nostalgia and late-night thoughts.
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💛 bf!matt who... becomes your hype man for everything. New outfit? Stunning. New hobby? He’s obsessed. You’re brushing your teeth? Iconic.💛 bf!matt who... makes playlists for every mood. One for when you’re sad, one for car rides, one for when you can’t sleep—he has them all.💛 bf!matt who... always grabs your hand when crossing the street. Doesn't matter if there are no cars, he does it without thinking.💛 bf!matt who... leans into you when he’s tired, resting his forehead against your shoulder with a deep sigh.💛 bf!matt who... talks about you like you hung the stars. Everyone he meets knows at least five random facts about you.💛 bf!matt who... hates losing to you in games but lets you win anyway (unless it's Mario Kart—then it’s war).💛 bf!matt who... doesn’t do PDA but will lowkey glare at anyone who flirts with you.💛 bf!matt who... loves taking candid pictures of you. He has a whole album of “you in your natural habitat.”💛 bf!matt who... wears your hair ties on his wrist and lets you do his hair if you beg enough.💛 bf!matt who... gets flustered when you compliment him but immediately grins like a fool.
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🎭 bf!chris who... acts nonchalant but melts every time you touch him. A hand on his thigh? He’s done for.🎭 bf!chris who... is secretly a simp. He’ll tease you endlessly but would literally do anything for you.🎭 bf!chris who... loves when you play with his rings. He pretends it doesn’t matter, but his heart is racing.🎭 bf!chris who... remembers every little detail about you. Mentions something you said once six months ago like it’s common knowledge.🎭 bf!chris who... says he hates couple TikToks but will begrudgingly do them all (and secretly rewatch them later).🎭 bf!chris who... is lowkey possessive. If someone flirts with you, he’s immediately wrapping an arm around your waist.🎭 bf!chris who... pretends to be annoyed when you steal his hoodies but secretly loves seeing you in them.🎭 bf!chris who... does that little smirk when you’re mad at him just to make it worse.🎭 bf!chris who... pulls you into his lap anytime he’s sitting down. No questions asked.🎭 bf!chris who... acts tough but is an absolute softie when you’re upset. He’ll sit quietly, let you vent, and pull you into his arms.
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February 14th, 11:57 PMChris was up to something.You knew it the second he insisted on cooking dinner tonight—Chris, who burns toast and somehow messes up instant ramen.But he tried anyway, and now, sitting on the rooftop wrapped in a blanket, a city full of flickering lights below, you had a feeling that this wasn’t just about Valentine’s Day.He was nervous.Not in the way he usually was, where he fidgeted just to keep his hands busy, but in a way that felt different.He kept checking his pocket. Running his fingers over the fabric, shifting every time he thought you weren’t looking.Finally, you decided to call him out.“You’re acting weird.”Chris smirked, tilting his head toward you. “Define weird.”“You made dinner.”He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Alright, yeah, fair.” Then, with a slow grin, he turned to face you fully, resting an elbow on his knee.“Remember when you said you’d only marry me if I learned how to cook?” His voice was playful, light. Then he gestured toward himself. “Well… I made dinner tonight, soooo…”You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Chris, that barely counts—”“Hey. I didn’t burn the kitchen down.” He raised a brow, the smirk still tugging at his lips. “That’s growth.”You shook your head, still grinning, but then—Chris exhaled slowly, the teasing fading.And suddenly, the air shifted.You blinked. “Chris?”He swallowed. Looked down at his hands. Then, before you could fully process it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.Your breath hitched.Your entire world stopped.Chris didn’t speak right away.He just stared at it for a moment, turning it between his fingers, his jaw tightening. His hands, so steady a second ago, suddenly trembled.And when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. Rougher.“…I had a whole speech planned.”Your chest tightened.“But now that I’m here, I—I don’t know, I can’t…” He stopped, exhaled, and rubbed the back of his neck.You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.Because this was Chris.The Chris who teased you relentlessly, who pretended like emotions weren’t his thing—And yet, right now?He was completely unraveling.His jaw clenched again, but then he lifted his eyes to yours. And suddenly, all the teasing, all the sarcasm—it was gone.And in its place was something else entirely.Something raw.Something undeniable.“I love you,” he murmured. His voice barely above a whisper now, like it wasn’t enough—like it could never be enough to explain what he felt.Your throat burned.Chris took a shaky breath, the smirk long gone.And then, softer—Something inside you broke.And before he could say anything else, you grabbed his face and kissed him.Hard. Desperate. Everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.Chris responded instantly, his hands fisting into your hoodie, pulling you impossibly close, like he was afraid to let go—like he couldn’t.When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless.And then, with tears burning at the edges of your vision, you whispered,“Yes.”Chris stared at you.His lips parted slightly, his whole body still tense—Like he was waiting.Like he couldn’t believe it was real.Then—“…Yeah?”You laughed. Nodded.“Yes, you idiot.”The words barely left your lips before Chris tackled you back onto the blankets, laughing into your skin as his arms locked around you.“Holy sh*t,” he murmured again, pressing kisses everywhere. Your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “We’re gonna get married!”You rolled your eyes, heart so full it physically hurt. “I’ve been stuck with you.”Chris grinned against your skin, and when he looked at you again, his eyes were different.Softer. Shining.“…Forever?” he murmured.You smiled.“For forever.”And this time, Chris kissed you like he meant it.Like it wasn’t just a kiss.Like it was a promise.
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Being sick sucked.Your whole body ached, your throat felt like sandpaper, and your nose had completely betrayed you—stuffy and runny at the same time.Winter had won.And Chris?Chris had been hovering since the moment you so much as sneezed.Which is why, right now, he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom, arms crossed, a very judgmental look on his face.“You look terrible.”You groaned, burrowing deeper under the covers. “Chris.”“I’m just saying.” He stepped closer, grabbing the thermometer off your nightstand like it personally offended him. “When did you last check your temp?”You peeked out at him, weakly glaring. “I don’t know. Maybe when I still had dignity?”Chris rolled his eyes but sat down beside you anyway, reaching out to press the back of his hand to your forehead.His touch was cold, and you instantly melted into it.Chris smirked. “Thought so.”You huffed, but your eyes were already closing.Then—Rustling. A sigh.And suddenly, Chris was sliding into bed beside you.You blinked as he settled in, tugging the blankets over himself, as if this was normal. “Chris—”“I’m staying.”You stared at him. “What?”“I’m staying,” he repeated simply, as if that explained everything.“You’ll get sick.”Chris shrugged. “Then we’ll be sick together.”You groaned. “Chris, that’s not how immunity works—”“Don’t care.” He reached for you, pulling you against his chest, letting you rest against the soft fabric of his hoodie.You sighed, too exhausted to argue.And honestly? It felt good.Warm. Safe. Like the ache in your body wasn’t so unbearable anymore.For a moment, neither of you spoke.Then—Chris pulled the blanket up to your chin and cooed dramatically.“Awww, does my poor baby have a sniffly wittle nose?”You cracked one eye open to glare at him. “Chris.”“You’re so tiny and helpless,” he continued, grinning. “So small. My poor wittle sick baby—”“I will actually cough directly into your mouth.”Chris threw himself back like you had just threatened his life. “YOU’RE A MENACE.”You smirked, but before you could rub it in, a coughing fit overtook you.Chris immediately panicked.“Jesus—are you good? Should I start writing your will?”You wheezed, barely able to respond.Chris squinted at you like he was assessing the situation. Then, solemnly:“Okay, if you die, can I have your hoodies?”You whacked his arm mid-cough.He grinned. “That’s a no, huh?”At some point, Chris decided that your suffering should be publicly documented.“Time for a status update,” he announced, grabbing his phone.You groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Chris, don’t—”Too late.Matt picked up first. “What?”Chris flipped the camera to you, sprawled out in bed, barely clinging to life under layers of blankets.“Yeah, she’s dying,” he announced dramatically. “Might not make it.”Nick joined the call. “Damn.”Matt hummed. “Kinda tragic. She had a good run.”You groaned, chucking a pillow at Chris. “I literally hate all of you.”Chris turned the camera back to himself, grinning. “It’s the fever talking. She loves me.”Eventually, exhaustion won.Chris was scrolling through his phone, one arm still loosely wrapped around you, his thumb brushing up and down your back absentmindedly.You shifted slightly, voice groggy. “Chris.”His thumb stopped mid-scroll. “Yeah?”“Thanks.”For staying. For taking care of you. For being Chris.He exhaled softly, his grip tightening.“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but his voice was quieter now. “Go back to sleep.”You did.Because you were safe.Because he had you.Because no matter how annoying he could be, no matter how much he teased, he was always there.Always.Somewhere in the haze of half-sleep, you felt Chris shift beside you.You hummed softly, feeling the warmth of him. His hand moved under the blanket, searching until he found yours, his fingers curling around your own.“You good?” he murmured, voice lower now, sleepier.You squeezed his hand weakly in response.Chris let out a quiet exhale, like that was all the answer he needed.Then, after a beat—“I knew I was your favorite nurse.”You would’ve argued, but your body was too heavy, your head too warm. Instead, you let out a barely-there laugh, pressing your face against his hoodie.Chris must’ve taken that as a win because you could feel his smirk against your hair.His hold on you tightened, his voice softer now.“Just sleep, okay?”You didn’t need to be told twice.As your breathing evened out, Chris stayed right where he was, his hand still wrapped around yours, his thumb tracing soft, absentminded circles against your palm.And just before you drifted off completely, you heard him mumble—so quiet, you almost missed it—“I got you.”And you knew, without a doubt, that he did.