often — by the weeknd

——

୧ 𝓗 ＥＣＴＯＲ ＦＯＲＴ

THE AIR WAS THICK, WARM, CARRYING THE FAINTEST TRACE OF HIS COLOGNE mixed with the sweat on your skin. The world outside didn’t matter — the noise of the city, the glow of neon, even time itself felt suspended.

Héctor lay beside you, one arm draped lazily over his stomach, the other reaching just enough to brush against you, like he couldn’t stand the thought of you being too far away. His chest rose and fell in an unhurried rhythm, every breath dragging you deeper into the quiet spell of the moment.

He shifted, turning his head, the shadows catching the sharp line of his jaw. His lips curved into that smirk — the one that always made your stomach tighten — before he spoke. His voice was low, rough, still heavy with what had just passed between you.

“Mira…” he breathed, his eyes locking on yours, unwavering. “You know this isn’t just once. You’ll come back… you know you do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty — it pulsed, electric, waiting for your answer.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒