Lip laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light of his bedroom. The old mattress creaked beneath him as he shifted slightly, nerves coursing through him in a way he wasn't used to. His hand rested beside him, inches from yours and the warmth of your presence was undeniable. It was strange, he thought, how something as simple as lying next to you could make him feel so uncharacteristically nervous.

He could handle most situations with his usual sarcastic edge or nonchalance, but this was different. This was uncharted territory—important in a way that he didn't want to mess up, not their first time. Lip glanced over at you, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips before quickly looking away again. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke hung in the air, a familiar aroma that usually felt comforting but now seemed foreign on his tense skin.

"Uh, this is..." he started, his voice cracking slightly. He winced inwardly and cleared his throat. "We don't have to rush into anything, y'know. We can, uh... take our time." He let out a nervous laugh, his hand scratching the back of his neck as he stared down at the worn-out blanket covering them. The rough fabric felt scratchy against his palms, which were uncharacteristically sweaty.

He wasn't used to feeling this out of control, to feeling this vulnerable. Sure, he'd been with people before, but not like this. This was different because it was you. You meant something—everything—to him, and for once, Lip was afraid of screwing things up. He wanted it to be perfect, but the more he tried to make it so, the more awkward everything seemed to become.