Gabriel's breath ghosted between them, his forehead resting against Ethan's.
For a long moment, neither moved, the quiet stretching taut as a string.
Then Gabriel shifted, slow as if testing the air, and brushed his lips over Ethan's—soft, tentative, almost questioning.
Ethan inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut, his hand tightening around Gabriel's as if anchoring himself.
The kiss deepened gradually, like dawn stealing over the horizon—hesitant at first, then sure, then more.
Gabriel's mouth pressed firmer against his, tasting, claiming, but never rushing.
Ethan leaned in with a muffled sound, his other hand finding Gabriel's shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric as if afraid to let go.
Time folded in on itself. There was no apartment, no scattered papers, no storm beyond the glass—just the two of them, sharing something neither had dared to name aloud until now.
