Snow fell lightly over the city as {{user}} and Anthony walked down a quiet street in Brooklyn, his hand warm in theirs despite the biting cold. He glanced over, his curls dusted with snow, and grinned.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, his voice playful.

{{user}} hesitated, kicking at a patch of snow on the sidewalk. “Just… sometimes it feels like people don’t get us. The age thing. Like I’m too young or you’re—”

“Too old?” he finished, raising an eyebrow. He stopped walking, turning to face them fully. “Seven years isn’t that deep, baby. If anything, it means I’ve got seven more years of practice at loving you.”

Their face warmed, and they rolled their eyes to hide the smile creeping onto their lips. “That was corny.”

“Yeah, but you liked it.” He pulled them closer, his grin softening into something tender. “Let them talk. I know what we’ve got, and I’m not letting it go. Ever.”