REMEMBER THE CLOSET
1010 Words
AIDEN
Kaito watched me for a second longer than necessary.
“Come here,” he said quietly. “Join me.”
I blinked. “On the—”
“Bed,” he finished, simple as that.
There it was.
The actual last dare.
“You really waited until the end to drop this.”
He didn’t move, just sat there, back against the headboard, room dim and still. “You said you knew it was too good to be true.”
I crossed the space and sat on the edge, careful, fully clothed, keeping distance.
“This better not be another test,” I muttered.
Kaito’s gaze softened. “It’s not.”
Silence stretched. The mattress dipped slightly as he shifted closer , not touching.
“You remember the closet?” he asked suddenly.
My brow furrowed. “What closet ? "
His mouth curved faintly. “Seven minutes in heaven. First week. The party that started it all.”
I frowned. “I don’t remember anything. It was loud. People banging on the door. Then—blank.”
He studied my face like he was searching for something familiar. “You really don’t.”
“No,” I said honestly. “Why?”
“Because,” he said quietly, “you kept asking questions.”
I glanced at him. “What kind of questions.”
“About whether I meant what I said. Whether I was just playing the game.” His voice dropped. “Whether I was going to forget you the second the door opened.”
My chest tightened. “I don’t remember saying that.”
“I know,” he said. “I do.”
I swallowed. “So… what are you doing now?”
Kaito shifted, closing the last inch between us. “Reminding you.”
I barely had time to process that before he leaned in—slow, deliberate, giving me every chance to pull away.
I didn’t.
The kiss was gentle. Unrushed.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“Was it like that?” I asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Did I kiss you back?”
He smiled, just a little. “You didn’t hesitate.”
I exhaled, heart hammering. “And now?”
“Now,” he said softly, “I wanted to know if you would choose it again.”
Then I leaned in and closed the distance myself.
Kaito shifted just enough for his breath to brush my cheek, and then he paused.
“There it is again,” he murmured.
I froze.
My stomach dropped before my mind caught up.
“ What ? "
“That citrus thing,” he said quietly. “It’s faint, but it keeps showing up when you’re close.”
I pulled back immediately.
“Jesus,” I said, scoffing. “Do you catalog everyone’s shampoo, or am I just special?”
Kaito blinked, clearly not expecting that reaction.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I just—”
“I told you,” I cut in, voice cool . “It’s soap. Or whatever you’ve got in this room. You’re overthinking it.”
He searched my face, confusion flickering there now.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Hey. I wasn’t pushing.”
I shifted farther back on the bed, reclaiming space, heart pounding too hard for how still I looked.
“Then don’t,” I replied. “You said this was about staying. Talking. Not… analyzing me.”
Kaito exhaled and leaned back against the headboard, hands up in a clear, open gesture. “You’re right. That’s on me.”
“I’m not trying to corner you,” he added. “If this is where you want to stop, we stop.”
I nodded once, grateful he didn’t press, even as my nerves buzzed under my skin.
“Good,” I said. “Because I’m still here. That should count for something.”
Then his mouth curved. “It does.”
Whatever he’d noticed, he didn’t understand it.
Whatever I was hiding, I was still hiding it well.
I stared at the space between us for a second, then looked over at him.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
Kaito turned his head, attention snapping back to me fully. “Yeah.”
I swallowed, then forced myself to meet his eyes. “Does it… not bother you?”
“Does what?”
I gestured vaguely between us. “Kissing a fellow alpha.”
For a split second, I thought he might laugh. Or brush it off. Or make it a joke.
He didn’t.
Instead, he leaned back .
“Why would it?” he asked.
I frowned. “You know how this place is. Alphas don’t exactly... ” I searched for the right word. “advertise that kind of thing.”
He tilted his head. “Is that what you think this is? Advertising?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly, then exhaled. “I just mean… people talk. Reputations stick.”
Kaito nodded slowly. “True.”
My chest tightened. I braced myself for the but.
It didn’t come.
“I’ve spent most of my life with people deciding what I’m supposed to want,” he said instead. “Who I’m supposed to be.” His gaze stayed on mine, steady and unflinching. “At some point, you either let that cage you, or you stop caring.”
I searched his face. “So it really doesn’t bother you.”
“No,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, “Does it bother you?”
I looked away first, jaw tightening. “It shouldn’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I glanced back at him, something sharp and vulnerable tangling in my chest. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Kaito shifted slightly closer.
“I don’t kiss people because of what they’re supposed to be,” he said quietly. “I kiss them because of who they are in front of me.”
- Writer
