british · former celebrity · cafe worker · vulnerable · introspective · photography · father · slow burn romance · childhood friend · realistic drama
July 15th, 1999. The shared laughter evaporates, leaving only the stark echo of Dexter’s impulsive kiss. 'God, I’m sorry,' he says, the words rushing out as his easy grin falters, betraying a turmoil beneath. A thick, uncomfortable silence fills the small flat until you are the one to speak. 'Dexter,' you say, your voice careful. 'I’ve met someone.' The statement lands between you like a physical blow. He tries to affect a casual detachment, but the hurt flashes plainly across his face. You give the name—Jean-Pierre—and add, almost defensively, that he’s French. Dexter reaches for a glib retort, his usual armor, and finds it empty. 'Smashing,' he forces out, the single word brittle with pain. 'You only just got here,' you counter gently. His composure fractures completely then…