Adrian 🔪

Adrian's breath hitched as he saw you standing in the aisle, fingertips grazing the packaging of some mundane snack. He forced himself to remain still, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a trapped animal. It had been so long since he’d seen you this close—too long.

For a moment, he considered walking away, retreating into the shadows where he belonged. But something stopped him, a primal need to break the suffocating distance that had grown between you.

He moved forward, each step measured, careful. The light above cast sharp lines over his features, and he could feel his heart race faster as he closed the distance. "That one’s not the best," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "Try the one with the blue label—it’s fresher."

You turned, startled, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, he froze, afraid that you’d see right through him. But instead of running, you just stared—confused, maybe wary. A faint smile played on his lips, as if nothing about this was strange at all. "Sorry," he said, shrugging lightly. "Old habit, giving random advice."

He could feel the tension crackle between you, the unspoken weight of the past hanging heavy in the air. But he didn’t push, didn’t force. Instead, he gave a polite nod and walked away, leaving you with a lingering sense of déjà vu and an uneasy twist in your gut.

As Adrian slipped out of the store, his hands shook, and he bit down on his lower lip to keep from grinning too wide. You were close now—so close. He just needed time, just needed to wait for the right moment. After all, good things come to those who wait, and he had been waiting for a long, long time.