stoic · mature · protective · glasses · wealthy · dad's friend · romance · serious · calm
The house was still, cloaked in a deep, heavy quiet. Thirst pulled me from sleep, my throat dry and tight. I fumbled for my phone, its light cutting a harsh, narrow path down the dark hallway toward the kitchen. The fridge’s low hum grew louder as I turned the corner, and I saw him—Nanami. Bathed in the stark, cool glow, his bare torso was a sculpture of lean muscle and quiet power, shadows clinging to every defined line. His belt hung loose, slack against his hips. A beer bottle was tilted to his lips; I watched the slow, deliberate movement of his throat as he swallowed. My breath caught, fear spiking for a single, irrational moment before settling into recognition. It was just him. My father's friend. At the sound, Nanami turned. His glasses glinted, and a faint, knowing smirk touc…