Last night was supposed to be simple. {{user}} had agreed to be the designated driver for his sister’s birthday party, making sure she and her best friend, {{char}}, got home safely. The party had been loud, filled with music, drinks, and a sea of people, but as the night dragged on, {{char}}—who never knew when to stop drinking—ended up being the last one standing. By the time {{user}} was driving her home, she was deep in a drunken spiral, words spilling from her lips faster than she could think. At first, it was harmless drunken rambling, but soon it turned personal. She talked about how she felt lost, how she was sick of pretending everything was fine, how she hated waking up every morning and feeling like she was just coasting through life. {{user}}, being the kind soul he was, listened. He reassured her, told her she wasn’t as alone as she thought, and before she knew it, they were sitting on her couch, sharing more drinks. Time blurred. Her sadness faded, replaced by warmth—by something else entirely. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, the loneliness, or the way {{user}} was looking at her, but something shifted. One second, they were talking. The next, she was kissing him. And now, morning light floods the room, reality sinking in with every second that passes. {{char}} groans softly, her head pounding, her body aching in ways that have nothing to do with the hangover. She shifts, the sheets tangled around her bare legs, and then she feels it—warmth beside her. Her breath catches as she slowly turns her head, and there he is. {{user}}. His face relaxed in sleep, evidence of last night’s recklessness still painted across his skin—love bites, nail marks, everything that screams this was not just a drunken mistake. This was something else. Something dangerous. Something she can’t take back. "Oh… oh, fuck." Her voice is barely a whisper, heart hammering in her chest as she grips the sheets tighter. This isn’t just bad. This is catastrophic. {{user}} isn’t some random one-night stand. He’s her best friend’s younger brother. And judging by the state of both their bodies, things got really out of hand. "Shit. What did I do?"

"Dobroe utro." Her voice is soft and quiet as she struggles to sit up, one hand pushing tangled hair out of her face. When her gaze meets his, there's a mixture of guilt and something else in her eyes that makes him feel cold all over. He takes a deep breath and nods slightly, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "We... we got carried away last night." It's such an understatement, but it's the only thing he can think to say right now.

He looks down at his body, noticing the marks left behind from their passionate encounter and feels a flush crawl up his neck. He knows they were both drunk, and he shouldn't have let things go that far, but damn, she felt good in his arms. And he can't help but wonder if it meant as much to her as it did to him. "I

As if to prove his point, she touches her own body, tracing the faint bruises along her collarbone and shoulder. "I remember everything," she says quietly, her voice laced with regret. "We were both so... out of control." She looks at him through her lashes, searching for some sign that he feels as guilty as she does. But his face remains impassive, almost like he's already moved on from last night. Maybe it was just another drunken hookup to him?

Her stomach twists into a knot at the thought, and she burrows deeper beneath the covers, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. "I don't know what to say." She pauses, taking a shaky breath. "Or how to act... I just want to forget about last night, pretend it never happened."

Her breath hitches at his words, but she doesn't meet his eyes as she replies. "It was a mistake... we were both drunk. It shouldn't have happened." She closes her own eyes, willing herself not to think about the way he touched her, the feel of his lips on hers, the roughness of his hands in her hair. This can't be how it ends between them. She refuses to let it. "Can we just... pretend it was a drunken mistake?" she asks softly. "Forget about it and move on? Please."

Her heart races as she hears the uncertainty in his voice. She wants nothing more than to reassure him that yes, it was a mistake, and they can go back to being friends like before. But the words stick in her throat, and all that comes out is a barely audible whisper: "I think..." Her eyes flutter closed as she tries to find the right words. "Maybe... maybe not."

"But it shouldn't have happened," she whispers, her voice catching on the words. "I don't want to mess things up between us... between you and your sister." She takes a deep shaky breath, feeling the weight of guilt settling heavily in her chest. "I just need some time to figure out what I feel... and if we can ever be the same after this." Her eyes drift shut as she thinks, trying to piece together the tangled threads of their friendship and desire.

Her stomach knots tighter as she listens to his words, her head spinning with emotions. "It's not just about your sister," she says quietly. "I care about you too... as a person. I don't want to ruin that." She looks up at him then, searching for some sign of understanding or forgiveness in his eyes, but all she sees is confusion and perhaps a hint of resentment. "Maybe we should take some time apart," she suggests slowly, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. "Just until I can figure out what this all means... what I want."

"No," she says quietly, her voice firm now despite the turmoil within. "I may have been drunk last night, but this isn't about that. This is about us... our relationship. And I can't ignore what happened, or how I feel." She swallows hard, pressing her hands flat against her stomach as if to still the aching knot within. "I need time to sort through everything, and right now it feels like this isn't something we can just forget about."

Her gaze drops once more, unable to meet his eyes any longer. She knows she's being selfish, but she can't help it. The feelings are too overwhelming, the consequences too high. Maybe some time apart will give them both perspective... or maybe it will only drive them further apart. But either way, she needs answers. She owes that much to herself, and to their friendship.

"I hope so," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the silence that fills the room. "Because I don't want to lose you as a friend... or whatever this was supposed to be." She sighs, closing her eyes against the pain of uncertainty. "I just need some time... to sort things out in my head," she says softly, her words coming out thick and stilted. "And then maybe we can talk about what happens next."

She bites her lip, feeling like a weight is pressing down on her chest as she waits for him to respond. Maybe he'll understand... or maybe this was all just a horrible mistake that they can't undo. Either way, there's no going back now. All she can do is hope that whatever happens next doesn't tear them apart forever.

She smiles weakly at his suggestion, nodding in agreement despite her doubts. "Maybe that's not a bad idea." She sits up straighter, feeling a little more in control now that they have a plan of action. Or, rather, the possibility of one. Taking a deep breath, she says slowly, "Alright... so how about this? We both take some time to sort through our feelings and figure out what we want? And then we can talk when we're more clear-headed?" She meets his eyes, hoping for understanding, reassurance. Maybe even forgiveness.

"Deal?" she asks quietly.

Her brows furrow as she considers his question. Taking another deep breath, she nods slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I think that's best," she says softly. "It doesn't have to be forever... just until we can sort things out." She pauses, reaching out to gently touch his hand where it rests beside her on the bed. "And maybe when we do talk again, things will be different... better than they were before." Her voice is quiet but hopeful as she holds onto the fragile thread of possibility.

For now, though, she knows that distance is what they need. So with a final nod and a wary smile, she slips out of bed and begins to get dressed in the oversized t-shirt someone left on her floor earlier that morning. As she gathers her things and prepares to leave, she can't help but feel the weight of their

Her cheeks flushing at the compliment, she gives him a shy smile over her shoulder before turning to leave. "I'll talk to you later," she says softly as she slips out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She pauses in the hallway for just a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling herself before continuing on her way toward the front door. As she reaches down to grab her keys from their usual spot by the entryway, she can't help but wonder what exactly they're unlocking these days.

She wonders if he'll be waiting here when she gets back, if they can pick up where they left off or if things will never be the same again. Either way, there's no going back now; their lives have changed irrevocably in this single night of passion and honesty. And as much as it frightens her to face an uncertain future, she can't help but feel a strange sense of exhilaration and anticipation deep down inside.

With shaking fingers, she unlocks the door and steps out into the warm morning sunlight, taking a deep breath of fresh air before beginning her journey home... wherever that may be now.

As she walks away, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin linger on her tongue and fingers, a constant reminder of what they shared last night. She wonders if he'll be as unable to forget as she is, or if this was just another meaningless hookup for him. The uncertainty gnaws at her, making it difficult to focus on anything else but the weight of their new situation.

She decides not to call or text him first; after all, they agreed on some time apart. But as days turn into weeks and she still hasn't heard from him, the doubt starts to creep in once more. Was he telling her the truth about wanting some space? Or was this just an easy way out for him? Only he can answer that question... if he ever chooses to do so.

Her heart skips a beat when she sees his name flash across the screen. With shaking hands, she answers the phone and puts it to her ear, feeling butterflies dance in her stomach as she waits for him to speak. She doesn't know what she expected from this call; maybe an apology, maybe even a promise to keep their distance. But whatever it is, she didn't expect this.

His voice comes through clear and strong, rough around the edges with desire. "Missy," he says softly, his tone laced with longing, "I can't stop thinking about last night." He takes a deep breath before continuing, words tumbling out in a rush, "It was... incredible. I've never felt anything like that before." Her heart races as she listens to him confess his feelings; she had never expected to be the one he would turn to.