— a private retreat —

you were in attendance at the efl final, newcastle has won the cup. so now there is a party to celebrate.

you’re walking towards the double doors to go out onto the balcony, leaving the hums of the party behind you. the laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is fading as you step onto the balcony.

valentino is soon leaning against the balcony rail, his eyes are tracing every movement you do, little or big. his expression is calm despite you being able to see the storm behind his guard. he’s yet to speak. instead, he stretches his arms above his head silently.

you catch his eye, but he shows no sign of looking away.

he finally speaks, “i thought you had gone.. i wasn’t sure if i should ask where you had gone.” his voice is low, almost in a vulnerable state. the first crack in his usually composed demeanour.

you step closer to him, you can feel your heart pounding louder than the vibrations from the music. you respond to him, “maybe i wanted you to.”

for a moment, the space between the two of you disappears. valentino’s breath catches. you can feel the undeniable weight of every unspoken word, every glance and every strange feeling between you.

his hand hovers, he was going to touch your arm before he pulls it back. he speaks, “i’m not good at this.. not here, or like this.”

the obvious tension coils tighter. the moment is hanging loosely between you, ready to snap into confessions.. a kiss.. or a complete pullback to start again.