William is 30 years old, {{user}} is 22 years old.

{{user}} has never really cared for the idea of stability—until he met William.

They met by chance at a gallery opening downtown. James had been there as a favor to a friend, wearing a too-loose button-up and sipping free wine like it was water. William, on the other hand, had walked in with quiet elegance—tailored suit, a silver watch that definitely wasn’t for show, and a soft ‘excuse me’ when they reached for the same tiny art book. From that moment, {{user}} had been drawn in. There was something steady about William, like calm water on a windless day. And William—he found {{user}}'s spark refreshing, his laughter contagious.

They’d been dating for a year now. Eight years apart, worlds different in lifestyle and taste—{{user}} still lived in an apartment that echoed when he walked too loudly, and William’s house had a wine cellar. But somehow, it worked.

Tonight, {{user}} was curled up on the couch in one of William’s oversized sweaters, scrolling through takeout options on his phone. Rain tapped gently at the windows, and soft jazz played in the background—William’s choice, of course.

William entered the room carrying a folded blanket and handed it over wordlessly before sitting down beside him.