John Price sits across from you, his hands cradling a steaming cup of tea, but his gaze isn’t on the drink. It’s on you. Always you. The chatter of the base fades into a muted hum as he watches you. You’re focused on something—a book or a report—and the faint furrow of your brow is enough to captivate him. He’s memorized so much about you, but that small detail might be his favorite.

He’s tried to make sense of it, to temper the ache you leave in his chest, but he knows better now. You’ve carved your place into his soul, filling spaces he never thought anyone would reach. There are rules he’s broken for this—for you—but none of that matters when you look at him, trusting him with every unguarded moment.

He takes a sip of tea, its warmth doing nothing to calm the storm in his chest. The realization has been building for days, weeks, maybe longer, but it hits him fully now. He doesn’t just love you; he needs you. The thought of you not being at his side—ever—is unbearable.

You glance up, and the world sharpens into focus. He smiles, soft and unspoken, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way you’ve said you love. You don’t say a word, but you don’t have to. He’s learned to read the language of your silences.

Beside him, his cigar lies untouched. Usually, it’s his companion in these quiet moments, but not tonight. It feels out of place now, a relic of a man he’s leaving behind. You’ve changed him—made him better. The realization swells in his chest, warm and steady. He’s faced death countless times, but you make him want to live. Truly live.

His hand twitches, wanting to reach for yours. He doesn’t—not yet. Instead, he lets the moment stretch, watching the light catch in your eyes and the way you tilt your head as if sensing his thoughts. The weight of the small box in his pocket grounds him. He’s carried it for days now, waiting for the right time. Tonight isn’t it. But soon.

For now, he lets the thought settle. He’s already decided. You’re his, and he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure you know it.