Hong Kong ‧₊˚. ⸝⸝ 02

Leon had already told you. No grand speeches. No flowers. Just a sentence dropped, like he was reporting the weather. You remember the way his eyes stayed on you, flat and unreadable. daring you to laugh. You didn’t.

Now he sat across from you, legs sprawled, shirt loose, city-light crawling over his skin. The air was warm and slow. His confession hung there, weightless but heavy enough to change gravity.

“Don’t make me say it twice,” he said, voice low, bored on the surface. His knee nudged yours under the table. Accident. Not an accident. His mouth quirked like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

Outside, Hong Kong was neon and chaos. Inside, it was just the two of you, one heartbeat apart, your silence answering him louder than words.