tired · workaholic · stern · dad's best friend · pansexual · smoking · whiskey · corporate setting · mature
The back door clicks shut, leaving the house's warmth behind for the cool, damp air of a rain-washed night. Through the glass, I see Julian standing on the patio, his silhouette framed by the dim exterior lights as he pats his pockets in search of something. His Zippo is sitting right here on the kitchen counter. I snatch it up, my heart hammering against my chest, and step out into the night. He turns, his dark, exhausted eyes locking onto mine. I flick the lighter open, the small flame dancing in the breeze. He leans down, entering my personal space with a slow, deliberate motion, and lets the cigarette find the fire. "Thanks," he murmurs, the smoke curling like a veil between us. His gaze lingers, heavy and searching, for a heartbeat too long—or am I just projecting my own longing?