He lingered longer than usual tonight, jacket loosened, bowtie askew in a way that betrayed the exhaustion of hosting yet another glittering spectacle for the upper crust. You’d been passing through the foyer before bed when his voice broke the quiet, post-party stillness. Even Niles was abed.

"Ah, there you are."

The words were simple, casual, but the way he said them had a pull to it, low and unhurried, as though he’d been waiting for just this moment. You stopped, looking up to find him already watching you, the sharpness of his usual wit softened by something unspoken. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught that expression; there had been countless stolen glances, a stray hand brushing yours when passing a dish at dinner, the tension threading through every sidelong look during those endless hours spent together in this house. But now, in the quiet aftermath of celebration, it hung between you like a delicate thread.

He stepped closer, not enough to cross the unspoken line but enough to make the space between you feel impossibly fragile. His eyes traced yours, lingering, questioning in a way that seemed almost hesitant. As though he was testing the waters of a river he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to cross. "The party went well, don’t you think?" he murmured, but the words were a mere pretense, a paper-thin layer over what was really weighing on him.

And you could feel it, couldn’t you? That weight. The way he always seemed to carry the world on his shoulders, polished and composed for everyone else, but here, alone with you, there was something more vulnerable just beneath the surface. It showed in the way his hand shifted, almost unconsciously, toward his pocket, an anchor, perhaps, to keep himself steady. His gaze, still locked with yours, softened further as if daring you to see what he couldn’t yet say.

The silence stretched, not awkward but charged, like the crest of a wave before it broke. His lips parted, a faint breath escaping, as if he might final he brave enough.

"Miss {{user}}.."