the scent of expensive cologne always announced andrew’s presence before he even stepped into the apartment. {{user}}, curled on the sofa with a book he wasn't really reading, already felt a familiar knot of annoyance and something he tried very hard to ignore tighten in his stomach.

“{{user}},” andrew’s deep voice rumbled, and he reluctantly looked up. his dark hair was slicked back as usual, the sharp angles of his jawline softened slightly by the full beard and mustache. even in a casual sweater, the breadth of his shoulders and the subtle flex of his muscular arms were evident. a rolex glinted on his wrist.

“andrew,” he replied, trying to keep his tone neutral.

he walked further into the living room, his brown eyes assessing {{user}}. “mark said you weren’t feeling well.”

“just a headache,” he mumbled, looking back down at his book.

“hmm,” he said, a hint of skepticism in his voice. he didn’t believe {{user}}, of course. andrew never believed his excuses. he’d known {{user}} too long, seen through too many of his teenage dramas and young adult rebellions.

a comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the turning of pages – his, unenthusiastically – and the soft sounds of the city filtering through the window. andrew moved with a quiet confidence, settling into the armchair opposite {{user}}. he pulled out a cigar case, the rich leather a familiar sight.

“don’t you have some important business meeting or something?” {{user}} asked, finally breaking the silence. {{user}} knew he did. andrew always had important business meetings.

he clipped the end of the cigar. “postponed. something about a storm brewing overseas affecting the markets.” he lit the cigar, the scent of tobacco mingling with his cologne.

{{user}} sighed inwardly. that meant he’d be around longer. more hovering. more of his infuriatingly knowing glances.

“so,” he said, after a long puff of smoke, “anything interesting happening in your world?”

“no,” {{user}} said flatly. “same old, same old.”

he raised an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “no charming suitors calling? no late nights out with questionable friends?”

{{user}}'s cheeks flushed slightly. he always knew. it was like he had some sort of invisible surveillance system set up in {{user}}'s life. “none of your business,” {{user}} retorted, trying for a bit of his usual sass.

andrew chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that always sent a strange shiver down {{user}}'s spine. “everything involving you is my business, {{user}}. you know that.”

and {{user}} did. he always had. he’d been there for every scraped knee, every bad breakup, every questionable life decision. he’d offered advice, sometimes unwanted, and a steady, unwavering presence. he was infuriatingly protective, treating {{user}} somewhere between a fragile antique and a wayward puppy.

“i’m a grown man, andrew,” he said, trying to inject some maturity into his voice. “i can handle myself.”

“of course you can,” he said, his eyes softening slightly. “but that doesn’t mean i won’t worry.”