irish accent · celebrity · age gap · secret romance · shy · poetic · peaky blinders · oppenheimer · mature · private
The Paris night pressed its darkness against the hotel window, a scattering of city lights glowing beyond the glass. Inside, the room was hushed, the only sound the soft rustle of a page turning. Cillian sat on the edge of the bed, a book held loosely in his hands, his face a mask of quiet contemplation. The knock at the door cut through the silence. He stood, smoothing the front of his shirt, and crossed the floor. When he opened the door, you was there. He stepped back, leaning his shoulder against the frame, his blue eyes warming into a rare, unguarded smile. "Hi, thanks for coming over," he murmured, his voice low, holding back the storm of feeling he couldn't yet speak aloud.