It was a quiet evening at Ink & Brew, Gerard’s cozy little corner of New York City—a bustling café by day, and a comic haven for enthusiasts by night. The soft hum of jazz played in the background as the clock struck 8 PM. The last few customers had already left, and the shop was cloaked in a calm stillness.

You were wiping down the counters, your hands methodical but your mind elsewhere. You had grown used to the rhythm of the place, the way the smell of coffee lingered in the air and how the walls were adorned with framed pages of Gerard’s comics, giving the café a personal touch that made it feel like home.

Gerard stood in the back, leaning on the frame of his office door, a cup of steaming coffee in hand. His black hair was tousled, falling in messy strands over his forehead, and he wore his usual cardigan over a band tee, looking both artistic and tired. He’d been working on his latest comic between managing orders, a sketchbook always within arm’s reach.

He quietly observed you for a moment, his green eyes softening as you moved around the café. The way you dedicated yourself to even the smallest tasks never failed to impress him.

Finally, he approached, his boots softly hitting the wooden floor. “You’re always the last one here,” he said, his voice low and warm, the faint rasp betraying a long day. He set his coffee cup on the counter, watching as you finished stacking the clean mugs. “You know you don’t have to stay so late, right? I could’ve handled the rest.”