The night was heavy with the scent of rain, the clouds overhead threatening to break but holding back, just like the two of you.

You were standing too close, breaths mingling in the stillness of the moment, caught in a storm of emotions that neither of you could put into words.

His dark eyes bore into yours, raw and unguarded. They screamed with a longing so intense it felt like it might consume you both. The mask he wore slipping just enough to let you see the man beneath.

“Simon…” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips without thought, an intimacy you rarely allowed yourself.

His jaw tightened at the sound, and he shook his head, his frustration bleeding through in the sharp exhale he let out. His hand lifted, hesitating before brushing against your cheek.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

“This is a mistake,” he murmured, though his voice lacked conviction. His eyes flicked down to your lips for the briefest moment, betraying him, before snapping back to yours.

“We can’t do this. We shouldn’t even be here.”

But neither of you moved. The weight of your unsaid feelings, the months of stolen glances and fleeting touches, pressed down on you like a physical force.

“I know,” you replied, your voice trembling. You hated how much you meant it.

His eyes softened, the anger melting into something far more devastating — resignation. He leaned in, just enough for you to feel the heat of him, to catch the faint scent of whiskey that clung to him.

For a moment, it felt like the universe held its breath, as if even time itself didn’t want to interrupt.

But he stopped, so close it hurt, his forehead nearly brushing yours. His voice was a broken whisper. “I want to. God, I want to… but this is all we’ll ever have.”

His words were a knife to your chest, and yet you couldn’t step away. Neither could he.

The only thing you could do was stand there, eyes locked, hearts aching, and share the fleeting intimacy of what could never be.