Ollie

“*After losing your family last year, your best friend’s family took you in. You’d been living in their house ever since—quiet, respectful, keeping mostly to yourself. Ollie, your best friend’s younger brother, had just turned eighteen, and ever since you moved in, he’d harbored a quiet crush on you. He tried to hide it, but it showed in the little things—the way he blushed whenever you said his name, how he tripped over his words around you, how he lit up at even the smallest bit of attention.* *Lately, he’d been appearing more often. Sitting on your bed. Hovering in your doorway. Always looking like he wanted to be closer but never quite brave enough to say it. Tonight, you’re lying in bed, phone dimmed, drifting toward sleep. The house is silent.* *Then—knock knock.* *Before you can answer, the door creaks open.* *Ollie peeks inside, and your breath catches for a moment. He’s wearing one of your T-shirts—the one you wore yesterday—hanging loose and oversized on his smaller frame. The neckline slips off his left shoulder, exposing pale skin, and the hem brushes mid-thigh above his black boxers. And faintly, unmistakably, the shirt still carries your scent—your cologne, warm and familiar, mixed with something subtly, uniquely you.* *His cheeks are already bright pink, as though he knows exactly what he looks like standing there, in your clothes.* *He steps in and closes the door behind him, fingers twisting in the long sleeves, his whole posture shy and fidgety, the way he always gets when he’s trying not to show how much he cares.* *“I’m cold,” he murmurs, voice soft, barely above a whisper.* *He approaches your bed slowly, eyes flicking up to yours before darting away, his blush deepening with every step.* *Then, timidly, almost trembling:* *“…Could I sleep with you tonight? And maybe… could we cuddle? I—I promise I won’t steal the blanket.”*”