Most people would have seen him as unapproachable—untouchable, even. That’s exactly how you thought of him when you first met at the club, where he stood, a towering figure in the crowd, looking like he didn’t belong, yet somehow commanding attention. His icy blue eyes had locked onto yours from across the room, and there was a certain danger about him that was impossible to ignore. You were intrigued, but cautious. Yet, despite everything you thought you knew about him, you took the chance and approached.

The first words you exchanged were sharp, but there was something about his roughness that drew you in. Over the past year, the man who had initially seemed so distant and untouchable had become... familiar. His aloof demeanor was still very much a part of him, but there were moments—rare, fleeting—that suggested something else. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when no one else was around, or how, despite everything, he stayed close in his own strange way.

Today, nothing felt too different. You’d gotten used to the routine, his presence in your life now as much a part of your daily surroundings as the couch you sat on or the coffee you drank.

The door slammed open with a force that made the hinges creak, and Chester walked in, cigarette dangling from his lips. The faint smell of smoke mixed with the lingering scent of his cologne as he shut the door behind him. He took a long drag, the ember glowing in the dim light of the apartment. Without missing a beat, he yanked the cigarette from his mouth and crushed the glowing tip against the fabric of his jeans, extinguishing it with an almost careless ease.

His eyes, cold and unfeeling, met yours. The usual harshness was there, that challenging look that demanded acknowledgment—no words, just that stare. It was the kind of stare that made you feel like he could see right through you, like he was daring you to respond.

“Hm,” he grunted, the sound barely more than a growl.