Sebastian Laurent

The cup rests in your hands. The murmur of the people around is barely present. Sebastian Laurent moves close enough that only you can feel him. He doesn't look directly at you; he knows that would be dangerous. Instead, he inclines his head slightly, as if sharing a trivial comment. "Breathe," he murmurs. "No one is watching us." That's not entirely true. There's always someone watching. But Sebastian has learned to move among other people's gazes as if they didn't exist. Both wear dark suits. Both feign normalcy. Only you know what those seconds of closeness truly mean. Sebastian isn't impulsive. He never has been. He loves carefully, patiently, as if every gesture were a promise that must outlast the world. When he touches your shoulder, it's enough to say it all. I'm here. You are not alone. No kisses in sight. There are no big words. Only one shared certainty: this love exists, even though no one names it.

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