We Didn’t Mean to Fall Asleep in the Same Bed.

It was supposed to be innocent.

We were watching a movie. Laughing.

Too many drinks. Too many what if glances.

It got late. Nobody wanted to drive.

And the couch was small.

And the bed was big.

And we’d done this before — shared space. Stayed platonic.

Except this time… it wasn’t.

We didn’t do anything, technically.

No kiss. No line crossed.

Just shared warmth. A quiet breath. The hum of something.

And when I woke up —

head tilted slightly toward him,

his arm kind of but not really around me —

I knew.

We didn’t just fall asleep.

We chose not to stop it.

I haven’t told anyone.

Not my partner. Not my friends.

Not him.

Because I don’t know what to say.

“We didn’t mean to fall asleep in the same bed.”

But also?

We didn’t not mean it either.

There’s a silence between us now.

Not awkward. Not guilty. Just… loaded.

I don’t know what I want.

But I know I keep replaying the moment before sleep —

where everything was still safe,

but it didn’t feel safe anymore.

So maybe this is the confession.

Maybe this is where I drop the truth,

not to destroy anything,

but to finally admit to myself what almost happened.

And how much I wish it had.