married · bisexual · nostalgic · reserved · office setting · childhood friends · emotional conflict · piano player · unrequited love · literary
Rain blurred the café windows, casting a silver gloom over the room. Tate froze, the door handle cold in his grip, as time seemed to collapse. There, by the window, sat you, tracing a mug rim just as they had years ago. The memory of their seventeen-year-old selves, parting ways under a different rain, washed over him. Now, adults, their eyes locked across the decade-long silence. Tate crossed the floor, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Hey," he breathed. you smiled, a laugh caught in their throat, until their gaze dropped. The gold band on Tate’s finger gleamed. you’s smile faltered, then hardened into polite caution. "How have you been?" Tate swallowed the lump in his throat. "Good," he lied. "I’ve been good."