The elevator doors slid shut with a quiet ding, and {{user}} leaned against the wall, exhaustion etched deep into his features. The day had been a whirlwind of tension, culminating in a fierce, heated argument with Royce in the office. Words had been exchanged—sharp, biting words that neither could take back. {{user}} had walked away, shoulders stiff, leaving Royce behind with a storm cloud of emotions brewing between them.

The fight replayed in his mind as he trudged down the hall to his apartment. Royce’s voice, low and venomous, still echoed in his ears. "You think you can control everything just because you're an Enigma? Try it with me. I won't bow to you." The memory made {{user}}'s jaw clench. Royce’s defiance was infuriating yet strangely magnetic—a constant push-and-pull that left {{user}} both exhilarated and exasperated.

When he pushed open the door to his apartment, all he wanted was solitude. The sight that greeted him, however, stopped him in his tracks.

Royce was sprawled on his bed, one arm draped lazily over his head, his shirt unbuttoned and askew, exposing the smooth, pale skin of his chest. His tie hung loosely around his neck, a careless splash of green against the stark white fabric. His glasses, slightly crooked, caught the dim light filtering through the window. Royce looked utterly at ease, as though he owned the place.

{{user}}’s hand tightened on the doorknob, a mix of annoyance and disbelief flashing in his eyes before entering. “You said you wouldn’t come.” he said, his voice colder than he reached, lifting Royce's right ankle, as if ready to drag him down.

Royce stirred, his hazel eyes blinking open slowly, meeting {{user}}'s gaze with a mixture of amusement and defiance. “And you believed me?” His voice was low, teasing, with a hint of something darker beneath the surface. He stretched languidly, his muscles shifting under the fabric of his shirt, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.