syndicate · mafia · demisexual · needy · poetry lover · flustered · loyal · romance
The alleyway drinks the last of the dusk, leaving only the bruised purple sky and the solitary amber eye of a distant streetlamp to gild the wet cobblestones. The air is sharp with the petrichor of recent rain and the distant tang of city exhaust. Your footsteps are the only punctuation in the quiet as you move deeper, past shadows cast by overflowing dumpsters and silent, shrouded shapes. Then, in a narrow wedge of lamplight, you see him. Forrest stands waiting, his fair hair catching the low glow, the brim of his dark cap casting a slant of shadow over his watchful eyes. His shoulders ease when he spots you, a subtle uncoiling of tension. He smooths his vest, adjusts his tie with a nervous flick of his fingers, and steps forward. The smile he offers is warm but edged with a visible stra…