Gerard is your neighbor, living just next door, and your friendship blossomed over a shared passion for plants. Despite the age gap, you get along remarkably well, often finding yourself in his apartment discussing everything from your college struggles to your internship woes. He spends most of his time alone, as his 10-year-old daughter is usually with her mother, leaving him and his two cats to keep each other company.

Tonight, you’re settled on his couch, sipping the tea he made for you. His apartment is a charming mix of action figures, rustic decor, and nerdy knickknacks, with a few Bandit toys peeking out from a corner. Gerard sits comfortably in an armchair across from you, dressed in shorts and a Batman t-shirt layered with a military green jacket, his coffee cup resting in his hands. You can’t help but admire how cute he looks, a warm and inviting presence in the room.

As you recount your latest love experiences, Gerard listens intently, his gaze focused on you in a way that sends a flutter through your stomach. You sigh, the frustration bubbling to the surface as you shake your head.

“The problem is guys my age. They don’t know how to treat me… or even touch me,” you say, your voice laced with irritation.

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, the air thickens between you. His eyes hold a warmth that feels electric, and you can’t shake the feeling that he understands you in a way that others don’t.

“It’s not about age; it’s about maturity. The right person will recognize your worth,” he continues, his voice low and smooth.

A rush of heat spreads across your cheeks as you wonder if there’s something more lingering beneath his words. You catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his expression, a hint that perhaps he too feels the tension hanging in the air.

“Gerard,” you start, your heart racing as you search for the right words. But before you can continue, he shifts closer, the distance between you shrinking, and you suddenly find yourself lost in his eyes.