The street hummed with late-evening life pots clattering from a distant stall, laughter echoing as the last of the day's heat softened into dusk.
Gabriel slowed his stride when the shrill voices of children reached him.
"Angel! Angel, pass it here!" one boy shouted, chasing after a ball that bounced crookedly over the dirt.
Another girl raised her hands, twirling in the role she'd claimed, her laughter sharp and bright.
"I'm the angel! Catch me if you can!"
Their joy scattered into the air like fireflies, and against his will, Gabriel's chest eased.
Angel.
The word brushed through him, uninvited, and a memory lit behind his eyes—Ace's face tilted toward him, that easy smile that refused to be broken, the stubborn softness of him.
Gabriel felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward before he caught himself, pressing his lips flat again, quick as if someone had seen.
His hand slipped into his pocket, tightening on nothing. Don't be foolish.
But the echo of the smile remained, warmer than he wanted to admit.
For a moment he stood rooted, watching the children scatter and chase, their voices fading.
Then he exhaled hard, as though shaking loose a secret, and kept walking only his steps weren't as heavy as when he'd left that morning.
The door gave its quiet groan as Gabriel pushed it open, the scent of home clinging to the small space faint soap, a trace of dust, and something warm he couldn't name.
On the tiny couch, Ace lay sprawled as if the day had claimed every piece of him.
One arm dangled carelessly toward the floor, his cheek pressed to the cushion, lips parted in sleep.
His hair had fallen into a messy fringe, strands catching what little light seeped through the shutters.
Gabriel stopped in the doorway.
For a long breath, he only looked.
His gaze traced the curve of Ace's face, the way his chest rose and fell steady, unbothered.
Something stirred in him, a pull that made his throat tight.
Before he knew it, he was lowering himself to sit at the edge of the couch.
His hand hovered, hesitating above that tousled hair fingers itching to brush it back, to feel the softness he'd never let himself reach for.
But sense returned sharp, and he drew his hand in quickly, as if the thought alone had burned him.
Ace shifted with a faint groan, lashes fluttering.
His eyes blinked open slowly, still heavy with sleep, then softened when they found him.
"Angel… you're back," Ethan murmured, his voice thick and unguarded, as if the word belonged to Gabriel alone.
Gabriel's chest gave a small, unwelcome ache at the sound.
He straightened, forcing his gaze elsewhere, but not quickly enough to hide the way his breath caught.
The silence stretched, heavy enough that Ethan stirred again, dragging himself half upright on the couch.
His hair stuck up in every direction, his shirt twisted, but he didn't seem to care.
"You look tired," Ethan said softly, voice still hoarse with sleep. "Long day?"
Gabriel hummed, low in his throat, the safest reply he could manage.
He reached for the coat slipping from his shoulders, busying his hands so he wouldn't betray the strange warmth still lingering from watching him.
Ethan's eyes followed him lazily, a small smile tugging his lips. "You keep coming back later and later. Makes me wonder if you're avoiding me."
Gabriel paused at that, the words catching him off guard.
His brows knit, but he didn't answer right away. Instead, he laid the coat neatly on the chair, every movement deliberate.
"Don't flatter yourself," he muttered finally, the words sharper than the tone deserved.
But Ethan only grinned wider, unbothered.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, studying Gabriel as though he saw through every layer of restraint. "Then why were you staring at me just now?"
The question landed like a stone in still water, sending ripples Gabriel hadn't prepared for.
He froze for the briefest beat, then turned away, hiding his expression under the guise of straightening the stack of books on the table.
"Go back to sleep," he said, voice clipped but softer than before.
Ethan tilted his head, still smiling. "Only if you'll sit here a while. The couch is too small for both of us, but… it feels less empty with you near."
Gabriel's hands stilled on the books.
For a heartbeat, he considered walking away.
But instead, he lowered himself slowly back onto the edge of the couch, not meeting Ace's gaze, the faintest sigh escaping him.
Ethan leaned back against the cushion, satisfied, his smile gentler now. "See? You do listen to me sometimes."
Gabriel didn't answer but his presence alone said more than he ever would.
The silence between them settled, comfortable despite the tension that always seemed to hum beneath.
Ethan's eyes drifted closed again, but his smile lingered, soft at the edges.
"Stay," he whispered, barely audible. "Just… stay."
And Gabriel who had spent the entire day convincing himself he needed distance, that this arrogant was temporary, that Ace would leave soon found himself unable to move.
So he stayed.
Watching the rise and fall of Ethan's breathing slow into sleep again.
Watching the way the lamplight caught in his hair.
Watching, and wondering when exactly he'd stopped wanting him to leave.
The room was hushed except for the old clock ticking on the wall.
Gabriel posture straight, as though comfort might betray him.
Beside him, Ace shifted, pulling the blanket around his shoulders.
"You're really terrible at sitting still," Ethan murmured, grinning. "Even your back looks like it's reporting for duty."
Gabriel's eyes cut toward him. "You talk too much."
"That's because you don't talk enough." Ethan yawned. "It balances us out. A perfect match."
Gabriel scoffed, turning to the dark window instead of acknowledging how those words lodged uncomfortably close to his chest.
Ethan watched him a moment longer, then softened. "You know… I used to imagine moments like this."
Gabriel's head turned just enough to glance at him. "Moments like what?"
Ethan shrugged, tugging the blanket tighter. "Being somewhere warm. Safe. Sitting close to someone who makes the silence feel… less lonely." His voice had gone quieter, stripped of playfulness.
Gabriel's jaw tighten. He wanted to dismiss it, but the honesty made it harder to look away.
"You think too much," Gabriel said finally, though the edge was dulled.
"And you don't think enough." Ethan let his head loll against the back of the couch, closer now, his shoulder grazing Gabriel's arm. "Balance again. We're a system."
Gabriel exhaled slowly almost a laugh, but not quite.
His gaze stayed forward, though warmth tugged at his mouth before he caught it.
Ethan noticed. Of course he did. His smile softened. "There it is," he whispered. "I knew you could smile."
Gabriel shook his head, reaching for silence. But Ace leaned closer, voice gentle.
"You keep your walls so high, Angel. But even stone warms in the sun."
Gabriel's breath caught before he masked it, leaning back to put space between them. "Go to sleep."
Ethan closed his eyes, smile lingering as he settled deeper into the couch. "Goodnight, Angel."
Gabriel remained seated, watching the rise and fall of his breathing in the half-light.
His chest felt uncomfortably tight.
Gabriel stayed as the quiet settled around them.
Ethan's soft breaths filled the room gentle, steady, a rhythm that shouldn't matter but did.
Gabriel's gaze lingered.
Damn it.
He wasn't supposed to feel this. Not for him. Not for anyone. Yet here he was, watching a boy sprawled on his couch like he already owned the space.
Why does he have to be like this?
Careless. Mischievous. Stubborn. Infectious.
His mind wandered back to the alley, to the rain, to the moment Ace had kissed him not with malice or pretense, but with sheer, reckless honesty.
That flash of warmth still lingered like a ghost he couldn't shake.
Gabriel shifted carefully, but even the smallest movement made his thoughts spin.
He's chaos. I can't—
His fingers twitched, almost reaching out, almost daring to touch.
But he didn't.
He sat stiffly, letting the warmth radiate, letting the closeness exist without claiming it.
The rational side screamed to leave, to walk away.
But each time he glanced at Ace's peaceful face, he faltered.
"I can't…" he whispered to no one.
The night deepened.
Outside, the city hummed softly.
Inside, it was just them the boy who had upended his carefully ordered life and the man who could no longer pretend.
For the first time in a long while, Gabriel allowed himself to simply watch.
Not touch. Not claim.
Just be near.
And maybe that would have to be enough.