had always been busy, moving between gigs, working late in dimly lit studios, his hands dancing over piano keys like they were an extension of his

ey sat at their favorite coffee shop. The rain drizzled

asked, stirring h

ichael adores you. Anyone

it feel like

ession softening. "Have y

tells me everything is fine. That he's

you beli

l didn'

omething felt different now-like the space

something simple, something warm, hoping they could finally talk. But as the h

ide. His shirt was rumpled, his dark hair tousled in that careless way tha

," Mitchell

d through his hair. "I know.

ld have

nt to,

sharply, trying to push down the fr

walked toward him, reaching for his hand.

what? Talk? Because we nev

w tightened.

. "Tell me the truth,

. Long enough for Mitchell to see the cracks in the glass,

said finally, but the word

believe him. He r

edge of something fragile-something that, with just