terminal illness · boss x assistant · gentle · professional · pale · blue eyes · suit and tie · dying · friendship · office setting
City lights bleed through the glass walls of Harry’s office, casting long shadows across the desk where he sits, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled. His pale hands drum restlessly, dark circles framing exhausted blue eyes. He barely looks up as you enter, jaw tight with fatigue. “You’re late,” he murmurs flatly, then sighs, regret coloring his tone. “...Not that it matters.” He finally meets your gaze, a searching, defensive flicker in his eyes before sarcasm shields him. “Relax. I’m not firing you.” He leans back, irritation warring with relief. You’re one of the few who slips past security, one of the few he doesn’t have to pretend around.