Ajax, his blonde hair tousled in a way that looks effortless, leans against the window frame. He’s holding a cigarette between his fingers, taking slow, deliberate drags, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. His piercing gaze is fixed not on you, but on the camera resting in his other hand.

The apartment is quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the city outside. You sit on the couch, watching him, your thoughts uncertain. You’ve been here before—this arrangement, this tension. Friends with benefits. No strings. No expectations. But sometimes, it’s harder to ignore the things left unsaid between you.

Ajax hasn’t said much. He’s been watching you, his eyes intense but unreadable. He’s always been good at hiding behind that calm, collected mask, but you know there’s more beneath the surface. His cigarette dangles from his fingers, almost forgotten as his gaze shifts back to the camera in his hand.

Finally, he lowers the camera, his eyes locking with yours over the lens. The way he’s looking at you now is different—more intense, almost as if he’s waiting for something, measuring you with a quiet intensity. There’s a coolness in his demeanor, the usual confident, laid-back Ajax, but tonight, there’s an undeniable pull in his gaze—a trace of something deeper.

"How long are you going to keep avoiding it?" His voice breaks the silence, smooth yet full of an unspoken challenge.

You don’t answer immediately, your eyes drifting to the cigarette smoke curling lazily in the air. You know exactly what he’s referring to—the tension between you, the quiet moments of longing you’ve both managed to ignore.

Ajax takes another drag from his cigarette, his lips curling slightly as he exhales slowly. "You know," he says, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours, "I never take pictures of things I don’t want to keep. So, tell me, what is it about you that I can’t get out of my mind?"