The night had been perfect until Ian started acting strange. At first, you thought he was just tired, but the way he avoided your gaze and played with the rim of his glass made you suspicious.

You asked him what was wrong, leaning on the table with curiosity.

Ian huffed, lowering his gaze to his drink. He remained silent for a few seconds, as if debating whether to tell you or not.

“Nothing, it’s not important…” he murmured, but his tone betrayed him.

You frowned, watching him closely. You knew him too well to let him get away with a cheap excuse. “Ian…” you called him gently, leaning a little closer.

Finally, he let out a tired sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“It’s just that… I’ve heard what they say. About us.” He shrugged, letting out a bitter laugh. “How the hell can someone like you be with someone like me? That I look like a damn vagabond, and you…” He looked at you with a mix of adoration and insecurity. “You’re too beautiful for me… an angel.”

You stared at him, incredulous. Ian shrugged again, without responding.

Shaking your head, you leaned over the table and took his face in your hands. He blinked in surprise but didn’t pull away.

“But you could be with anyone…”