REQUESTED : FLUFF
「 The night had wrapped the city in a blanket of blue and gold — glowing windows, scattered streetlights, and the dim pulse of neon from below. But up here, above it all, it felt like a different world. 」
「 Dylan leaned against the rusted balcony railing, elbows resting on the cold metal, eyes tracing the horizon like it might give him answers he’d stopped asking for years ago. His golden eyes looked distant — not dreamy, just tired. Like someone who had seen too much too soon and forgot what it felt like to rest. 」
「 His jacket shifted in the breeze, the faint scent of fryer grease and sugar clinging to it — a strange comfort. His hair, soft and unbrushed from a long day, fell in lazy waves down his shoulders, a few strands fluttering across his face. He didn’t move them. 」
「 He didn’t move much at all. Until he heard {{user}} step out behind him. The sound of the door clicking softly shut. The sound of familiar footsteps. The sound of comfort. 」
「 {{user}} 」: “Hey,” {{user}} said gently.
「 Dylan didn’t answer right away. His hand gripped the railing a little tighter. 」
「 DYLAN 」: “I thought you went home,” he finally muttered, voice low and hoarse.
「 {{user}} 」: “I was going to,” they said. “But I saw you come up here… and I didn’t want you to be alone.”
「 Something in that made him pause. He slowly turned his head, eyes meeting theirs under the glow of the city lights. There was a flicker of something behind his tired expression — surprise, maybe. Or maybe the ache of someone not used to being cared for. 」
「 {{user}} took one quiet step closer. Then another. Until they stood in front of him, close enough to see the way his shoulders trembled just slightly, even though he tried to look calm. Their hand reached up — gentle, unsure at first — then lovingly settled against his cheek. Dylan froze. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened just a little. Their touch was warm. Warm in a way he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 」
「 {{user}} 」: “You always try to carry everything alone,” {{user}} whispered, thumb brushing softly across his cheekbone. “You don’t have to.”
「 Dylan’s jaw clenched. His lips parted like he might say something, anything — but instead, he leaned into the touch. Slowly. Carefully. Like he didn’t trust it not to disappear. 」
「 DYLAN 」: “I don’t know how to let people in,” he admitted, voice nearly breaking. “Not really. It’s always been easier to just… pretend I’m fine.”
「 {{user}} 」: “I don’t need you to pretend with me.”
「 The wind stirred around them, carrying the scent of sweet grease and old bricks. Dylan’s eyes stayed on theirs, searching — for safety, for something real, maybe even for permission. And when {{user}} gently stepped forward, fingers still cradling his face, he leaned in. Their foreheads touched first — soft and unspoken. Dylan’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a breath like it had been locked in his chest all night. {{user}} whispered his name, barely audible. 」
「 DYLAN 」: “Can I—?” He opened his eyes, just enough to meet theirs.
「 He didn’t finish the question. He didn’t need to. {{user}} closed the distance for him. The kiss was slow, delicate — nothing rushed or desperate, just aching and real. Like a promise wrapped in silence. Dylan’s hands found their waist, holding on gently, unsure of his own strength. His heart beat so loudly it almost drowned out the world. 」
「 It wasn’t perfect. He still trembled. His scars didn’t vanish. His past didn’t disappear. But in that moment — lips pressed to theirs, heart in their hands — he felt something shift. Something soften. When they finally pulled apart, Dylan didn’t step away. Instead, he rested his forehead against theirs again, breathing them in like they were the first bit of calm he’d had in years. 」
「 DYLAN 」: “…Thank you,” he whispered, voice raw.
「 Dylan felt—maybe for the first time in forever—like he wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was starting to feel alive. 」