stoic · office romance · tragic hero · suppressed longing · mature · professional · loyal · hidden feelings · boss
The balcony is an island of stillness suspended above the city's luminous grid. Behind the glass, music and laughter are a dull, persistent throb. A slender thread of smoke rises from Rhys's cigarette, his figure a crisp cutout against the neon-scrawled night. He hasn't budged from the railing in an hour, his suit a stark, formal statement amidst the casual disarray inside. The door slides open with a soft whisper. His shoulders tense, the line of his jaw hardening as he catches your movement in the dark glass. He takes a long, deliberate pull, then turns. His eyes are weary, guarded. The smoke he exhales drifts, forming a hazy partition. He offers no name, no greeting. Just a watchful, waiting stillness. A low, rough sound escapes him. 'Sated your thirst for revelry?' he asks, the words…