Between Us, Always

Jun's POV

As we walked out of the restaurant, the morning sunlight was soft, and the air was still a little crisp. The walk to the car was quiet, comfortable in its own way, but there was something different now. A certain kind of tension between us—subtle, but there. We were both trying to figure out how to move forward after everything.

I could tell Dylan was a little antsy. He kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, almost as if he was waiting for something. For what, I wasn't entirely sure, but I could feel it.

When we reached the traffic light, I could sense him fidgeting next to me. I didn't look at him directly, but I saw his fingers twitch, as if he wanted to reach for me but was second-guessing himself. I heard him sigh quietly, his hand brushing mine just briefly. It wasn't a full touch, more like a brush of the fingertips, but my heart stuttered, the warmth of his hand radiating into mine for that split second.

I smiled to myself, not saying anything. I wasn't going to rush him, and I wasn't going to tease him either. I was just happy to have him next to me, however that looked for now.

The light turned green, and we crossed the street together, heading toward the grocery store. I felt like I needed a distraction, something simple and normal. It was too easy for things to slip into awkwardness or unspoken tension, and I didn't want that to happen.

As we entered the store, I pretended to drag Dylan toward the ice cream aisle. "I think I need some ice cream," I said, my voice light, and I looked over my shoulder at him with a playful grin.

Dylan, still seeming a little hesitant, followed behind me, glancing around the store. "Ice cream, huh?" he murmured, his tone softer than usual. "You sure you want to indulge?"

"Absolutely." I slowed down to let him catch up, my arm brushing against his as we moved through the aisles. I kept my eyes focused on the frozen section but, in my peripheral vision, I could see Dylan's hand hovering, as if unsure if he should reach out.

And then, without really thinking about it, I reached for a tub of chocolate ice cream and gave him a look. "You can hold my hand if you want," I said nonchalantly, making sure my words didn't carry too much weight. But there was a certain softness in my tone that made it clear I wasn't playing games. It was an invitation, not a challenge.

Dylan froze for a moment, then smiled shyly. Without saying anything, his hand slowly came up to mine, fingers gently curling around mine. I could feel the slight tremble in his hand, as if he wasn't entirely sure if I would pull away, but I didn't. I squeezed his hand once, reassuringly, and we stood there for a few seconds, just breathing in the small, quiet moment.

"You know, I've been thinking," he said, his voice low and a little nervous. "About... all this. And I really don't want to mess things up again."

I squeezed his hand tighter, looking at him. "I know. And you won't," I said firmly. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Dylan gave a small, relieved laugh, looking down at our hands. "I'm still not great at this, you know," he said, almost sheepish.

"It's okay," I reassured him. "We're figuring it out. Together."

We continued down the aisle, hand in hand, and I could feel Dylan's tension starting to ease. We didn't say anything else about it. We didn't have to. It was just enough that we were there, in that moment, moving forward in whatever direction this would take us.

After checking out, we headed back to the car. Dylan seemed a little more at ease now, his hand brushing against mine again, though this time it lingered a little longer. He didn't pull away. It felt like something had shifted between us, and I could feel the quiet warmth of his presence, the simple comfort of just being with him.