Touch Without Touching

EPISODE 4 – “Warm Hands, Cold Nerves”

Elias couldn’t sleep.

Not with Enzo lying just inches away.

He kept his eyes closed, body still, but every time Enzo shifted, even slightlyhis breath would catch. The warmth of the bed, the faint scent of cologne, the quiet hum of the night… it was all too much.

And yet, not enough.

He could feel it, Enzo's presence pressing into the silence like a heavy promise. He hadn’t touched him. Not once. But Elias could feel him watching, waiting, thinking.

By the time the sun slipped through the curtains, Elias was more tired than when he'd gone to bed.

He sat up slowly, pushing his white hair back, and blinked blearily at the soft morning light.

Enzo was already awake.

Of course.

Leaning against the headboard, shirtless again, scrolling through something on his phone like he hadn’t just spent the entire night being an unspoken temptation.

“You didn’t sleep,” Enzo said, without looking up.

Elias gave a weak smile. “I wonder why…”

Enzo set the phone aside and looked at him eyes sharp, but softer than usual this morning. “You talk in your sleep.”

Elias froze. “What?! What did I say?!”

Enzo smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He slid out of bed, walked around the side, and stopped in front of Elias. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and brushed a strand of white hair from Elias’s face.

It was barely a touch.

But it made Elias's breath hitch.

“You look better with messy hair,” Enzo murmured.

Elias looked away quickly, heat blooming in his cheeks. “Stop teasing…”

“I’m not.” His fingers grazed along Elias’s cheek light as air. “I’m appreciating.”

Elias’s heart pounded. “Is there a difference?”

Enzo leaned down, lips just barely hovering near his ear. “Only if you want one.”

Before Elias could answer or short-circuit completely, Enzo pulled away.

“Come on. You need breakfast.”

Still dazed, Elias followed him into the massive kitchen. He wasn’t even sure his feet were touching the ground.

As he sat at the counter, Enzo stood behind him, brushing fingers down the back of Elias’s neck to adjust the collar of his borrowed shirt. It was small. Barely a graze. But it made Elias squirm.

“You’re sensitive,” Enzo whispered, lips too close to his ear again.

“And you’re doing it on purpose,” Elias replied, cheeks burning.

Enzo chuckled. “Of course I am.”

But he didn’t touch him again.

Not really.

He just stayed close, close enough to stir Elias’s thoughts, close enough to make every little moment feel like something more.

And Elias… didn't want him to stop.

After breakfast, Enzo handed Elias a steaming cup of coffee black, just like him. Their fingers brushed as Elias took it, and though the touch lasted less than a second, his heart leapt like it had been kissed.

“Thanks,” Elias murmured, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’ll get used to me,” Enzo said, sipping his own drink, watching him over the rim of the cup. “Eventually.”

Elias bit his lip. “Is that a promise?”

Enzo’s smile deepened, slow and knowing. “It’s a warning.”

Elias swore the room tilted just a little.

And suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to run… or stay forever.

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