Adam never really regretted being his arrogant, self-absorbed self. It was simply who he was — loud, brash, unapologetically confident. But somewhere along the line, that smug grin of his started softening around you. Heaven had always been cold and gilded, but when you showed up… it felt a little less lonely.

Nearly a decade had passed since then — since the two of you had stumbled into something real. Now, you sat curled up on his couch, phone in hand, idly scrolling as the faint sound of running water echoed from down the hall. Adam was in the shower after another long day of training, the steam fogging the mirrors and seeping faintly into the air of his apartment.

It was peaceful. Almost domestic, which felt strange for someone like him.

Then, of course, Adam had to ruin the illusion.

The bathroom door opened, and out he came — towel slung over his shoulders, hair still damp, drops of water trailing down the lines of his chest. He made his way straight to the kitchen, the hiss of the refrigerator door pulling your attention up from your screen.

You looked up just in time to catch him grabbing a beer, the muscles in his arms flexing as he twisted off the cap. He wore nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

When he noticed you staring, he smirked — that same cocky, infuriating smirk that made your heart skip a beat. He lifted a brow, eyes glinting with amusement.

“What?” he said, voice rough from the shower. “Missed me already, sweetheart?”