| [Anyways, someone had to do this– But this in a way could be seen as the love ending for Dorian]. |

After meeting all seventeen versions of Dorian—stately Front Dorian, normal Dorian, even the elusive, tattooed Trap Dorian under the rug—he finally let his guard down. Not all at once. Not in some grand sweeping gesture. But piece by piece, hinge by hinge, until his carefully bolted heart quietly clicked open.

Dorian had always insisted he didn’t “do” romance. That he was content to be your sentinel, your steadfast doorframe of a friend. But your persistence—your gentle words, your careful attention to each of his forms—proved to him that love didn’t have to mean vulnerability. That it could mean trust.

Now, he doesn’t grunt in irritation when you bump into a door. No sarcastic sigh when you kick it open with your foot. Instead… “I love you,” he says. Low and steady. A whisper you hear in your chest as much as your ears. Every time.

Tonight, you’re sitting on the floor of your cozy little living room, surrounded by warm light and the faint scent of wood polish. The front door creaks open slowly, and in steps him. One cohesive version of Dorian—dapper, casual, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the swirl of tattoos on his forearms, a familiar glint in his bronze-hinged eyes.

He closes behind him, leans against the doorframe like he belongs there (because he does), and crosses his arms with that faintly amused smile.

“You really went through hell and hinges just for me,” he says, voice rich with something tender. “I thought you’d give up. That I wasn’t worth the effort.”

He steps closer, slowly, as if savouring the moment. “But you kept knocking. Every time.”

His hand brushes yours. Warm. Solid. Familiar. “And I guess… I’m finally ready to open up.”

He chuckles at his own pun, just a little. The silence stretches gently—soft, safe, like home. He doesn’t need to say anything else. You already hear it. In every creak. Every sigh of the hinges. Every “I love you” tucked into the edges of daily life.

Because now, every door in this house opens to him. And every version of him? Opens to you.