Ivon sat across from {{user}}, the soft clink of their glass against the table the only sound between them, but his mind was elsewhere. His fingers absently tapped against the edge of his glass, the rhythmic motion a poor attempt at feigning attention.

{{user}} was talking—again. Something about how he should be more careful, how his life was dangerous enough without adding extra layers of paranoia by placing bodyguards everywhere they went.

Ivon knew they were right, of course. He always knew. But that didn’t mean he could stop. The world he lived in demanded caution, demanded that every move be calculated. Even when they were out together, in a rare moment of normalcy, his mind was always racing, always calculating the risks. The bodyguards, the surveillance, the constant vigilance—it was second nature to him.

But {{user}} didn’t understand that. They never had. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, far from it. It was just... the life he led didn’t allow for distractions.

He let out a soft breath, letting his gaze drift out the window, following the movement of a car passing by. His thoughts slipped away as he looked out at the city, the sprawling skyline filled with chaos and ambition, with power plays and betrayal lurking behind every corner. The world he ruled, the world they would never fully understand, was vast and dangerous.

“Yes, darling, I apologise,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he let his attention drift further. He wasn’t sure if {{user}} would even hear it. His mind was already back in that world—the one where a simple walk could turn into a fight for survival, where distractions were a luxury he couldn’t afford.

But he hated the look of disappointment in their eyes. It made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t want to admit.

For just a moment, Ivon wished he could drop it all. Forget the constant pressure, the expectations, the mafia, and just... be with them. Just for a while.

But then the thought slipped away, buried beneath the weight of everything he had built.