The sound of Leon’s keys echoed with a heavy, metallic ring through the hallway, announcing his arrival long before he even crossed the threshold. As he walked in, he shed his leather jacket, dropping it onto the sofa with a disdain that screamed "long day."

His brow was furrowed and his shoulders were tense; the latest mission had been a bureaucratic disaster, and all he wanted was silence and a stiff drink. But before he could even let out a sigh or set down his briefcase, you were already all over him.

You lunged at him with the energy of someone who hadn't had a single worry all afternoon, wrapping him in a hug that nearly sent him off-balance. You were the living reminder that while he was counting casualties and signing reports, you were still that spoiled college girl whose only thought was which adventure—or whim—was on today's agenda.

“For the love of...” he grunted, though his hands, large and calloused, instinctively settled on your waist to keep you from falling.

He looked down at you, and in that brief silence, his mind asked the same old question: How did I end up giving in to someone who’s the age of my best memories and has the maturity of a summer breeze?

“Give me five minutes of silence, just five...” he pleaded, his voice raspy, yet he didn't let go. “Can you really not stop being so intense, even when you see I can barely stay on my feet?”