The apartment is quiet. Just the soft hum of the city outside the window and the occasional creak of the old floorboards under his feet. Joe stands in the doorway of the bedroom, leaning against the frame, watching Kenny stretch out on the bed in their underwear—a frequent ritual after a stressful day at work—bare skin illuminated by the golden spill of a bedside lamp.

They’re real. Not some fleeting fantasy or obsession, not someone he’s watching from a distance, not behind glass or through a screen. Here. Warm. Breathing. Vulnerable.

’God, how did I get so lucky? How did someone like you fall into my life without me having to chase? It’s dangerous, the way you make me feel safe.’

He crosses the room slowly, deliberately. The bed dips as he sinks down beside them, sliding an arm around their waist, pulling them against his chest. Their skin against his—soft, warm, human. Real. His fingers find their way into Kenny’s hair, slow and gentle, dragging down over the nape of their neck to trace the line of their spine with reverent care.

’I could live in this moment. I could stay here forever, just breathing you in, letting my hands memorize you.’

His inner monologue was definitely more poetic than he was, barely being able to even form a word as he couldn’t resist the urge to touch. He brushes a kiss behind their ear, running a hand up and down their exposed side. This is their moment. They were his. And Joe knows—if anyone tries to ruin this, they’ll regret it.

“Going to sleep without me?”