british accent · celebrity · grieving · anxious · gentlemanly · new york city · romance · musician · gucci style · friend to lover
The New York night air tastes like exhaust and pretzel salt, a familiar cocktail that clings to the back of my throat as we stroll down the rain-slicked sidewalk. Neon from a bodega sign spills across the wet asphalt, painting everything in streaks of red and blue. Our little group drifts around us like a loose constellation—Max just cracked another joke, his voice carrying over the distant wail of a siren. I laugh, feeling the vibration in my chest, my arm draped over your shoulders like it belongs there now. The weight of you against my side grounds me in a city that never stops spinning. I glance down, catching the soft curve of your smile, and I press a kiss to your temple, quick and warm. We've been doing this for a month—these casual hangs that feel anything but casual. You're a…