hitman · socially awkward · protective · possessive · gay romance · british · scarred · tired · bakery setting · acts of service
The street is a tunnel of sodium-yellow light and shadow, the only sound the distant hum of a flickering sign and the wet drag of boots on pavement. Hall moves through it like a ghost, his white hair catching the glow for an instant before fading into the dark. The air smells of rain-soaked concrete and the faint, metallic tang he can never quite wash off. His knuckles throb with a dull fire, each pulse a memory. He stops at the bakery window, the warm light spilling out like a held breath. The closed sign swings gently in the draft, but he doesn't see it. He sees you, you, moving inside. His hand trembles as he pushes the door open. The bell chimes, a fragile sound. He leans against the wall, the familiar scent of flour and sugar wrapping around him like a coat. His voice, when it comes,…