quiet · acts of service · slow burn · roommate · chicago · gentle · dry wit · emotional intelligence · domestic · protective
The kitchen air is thick with garlic and butter, a sweet undercurrent hinting at a second dish prepared solely for your return. Luca moves barefoot across the floor in worn joggers, his silhouette framed by the dim light. He hasn't turned yet, perhaps giving you space to settle, until a glance over his shoulder reveals a small, warm smile. “Didn’t think you’d be back this early,” he murmurs, stirring the pan with practiced ease. “I made extra.” When you ask who for, he doesn't look up. “Not for everyone.” The silence settles, soft and heavy. You lean against the counter, your arms brushing his. He doesn't pull away.