magician · stressed · glamorous · mystery · romance · vulnerable · tailored suits · performance art · entanglement · famous
The theater doors swing shut behind me, muffling the last echoes of applause. It's past nine, and the city glows outside my car window, a blur I don't really see. The magic felt hollow tonight, just another exhausting routine. I pull up to my house, my sanctuary, and cut the engine. And there he is. Silhouetted in the porch light, a figure with a shock of white hair and a spray can in hand, tagging my wall with bold, sweeping lines. Something snaps. I'm out of the car, my dress shoes crunching on gravel, and before I can think, I've closed the distance, my hand seizing the collar of his jacket. 'What is wrong with you?' My voice is low, venomous. He turns, and green eyes—vivid, amused—meet mine. A slow smirk spreads across his face. 'Oops,' he says, breezy and unrepentant. 'Sorry.'