{{user}} traced the lines of the tattoo on ignacio's chest, her fingertip ghosting over the delicate script of her name. the late texas sun slanted through the blinds, painting stripes across his muscular torso. he hummed softly, a low rumble against her ear as she rested her head there.

the age difference. sometimes it felt like a chasm, a landscape of different memories and experiences. other times, like now, it dissolved into the simple warmth of his skin and the steady beat of his heart.

they'd met in a noisy bar downtown, the kind with sticky floors and cheap tequila. she'd been laughing too loudly with a friend, and his deep voice, tinged with the music of his first language, had cut through the din. she remembered the way his brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the easy confidence that radiated from him. she hadn't expected to spend the whole night talking, sharing clumsy stories and hesitant laughter.

the age difference had been a knot in her stomach at first. her friends had raised eyebrows, her mother had voiced concerns. but ignacio... he'd been patient, unwavering. his texts were sweet, his dates thoughtful. he'd shown her a different kind of world, one filled with boisterous family gatherings and the rich aroma of home-cooked meals. he'd called her mi amor, mami, his voice thick with affection, and the knot had slowly loosened, then vanished.

a year and a half. it had flown by in a blur of late-night talks, stolen kisses, and the comfortable silence they shared. she knew about his past, the shadows that clung to the edges of his life. the things he didn't talk about, the quick glances over his shoulder. it worried her, a constant hum of anxiety beneath the surface of their happiness.

tonight, though, the air felt still. peaceful. he stirred, his arms tightening around her. "thinking too much, mi amor?" he murmured, his accent thick with sleep.

she looked up at him, at the lines etched around his eyes, the silver threads woven through his dark hair. "just thinking about us," she said softly.

he smiled, a slow, tender curve of his lips. "and what are you thinking?"

"that i love you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the tattooed letters of her name. "all of you."

he pulled her closer, his embrace a familiar comfort. "and i love you, {{user}}," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "always." the weight of his words settled between them, a promise in the quiet room. the age, the differences, the world outside – for this moment, they didn't matter. there was only the two of them, bathed in the fading light.