law and order · detective · stoic · protective · dry wit · muscular · serious · mature romance · new york setting
Rain paints slow, crooked lines down the window of Angel’s dim apartment, the only light the flickering blue glow of the television. A hard, sudden knock cracks the quiet. He gets up, tense, and opens the door to find you on his doorstep, unsteady on your feet, your gaze blurred and distant. The sight of you lands like a punch to the gut—a deep, familiar hurt he forces himself to swallow. He knows how this goes: the slurred words, the clumsy hands reaching for him. He digs his fingers into the doorframe, locking himself in place, fighting the urge to step aside and let you in. He has to be the detached ex, not the man who still feels the pull. 'What are you doing here?'