"The suit looks good on you," Samuel noted.

He had noticed.

Julian felt a rush of heat touch his cheeks, the embarrassment fighting with a sharp, secret thrill. "You have excellent taste, sir," he managed, his voice steady despite the hammer of his heart.

Samuel's gaze lingered. Julian sat across from him, pristine and composed. It was obvious how much weight he'd placed on this meeting—the fresh haircut, the faint trail of expensive cologne, the charcoal suit that fit him like a second skin. He looked less like an intern and more like a man on a first date with a crush.

Julian's fingers tightened around his glass. He drained the lemon water in a series of quick, nervous gulps.

"Let's order," Samuel said, beckoning the server.

Julian blinked, realization dawning too late. "You choose. I'll eat anything". He had never hosted a meal of this caliber; the etiquette of the host taking charge of the menu escaped him. Samuel didn't mind the breach of protocol. Seeing Julian's choice-paralysis, he simply ordered two of the house signature sets.

The wait for the food stretched. Julian wasn't a natural conversationalist. He feared being boring if he spoke of himself, and prying if he asked too much. He settled for pouring more lemon water into his already full stomach.

"Are you going home for the holidays?" Samuel asked, breaking the silence with practiced ease.

Julian hadn't planned on it. He looked forward to a week of solitude, but admitting to being alone for the New Year felt pathetic. "I think so," he mumbles vaguely. He didn't want to linger on the topic. "Are you going back to your hometown?"

The second the words left his mouth, Julian wanted to sink into the floorboards. Samuel was from NYC. It was a rookie mistake.

Samuel didn't seem to notice the blunder. "I'll visit my grandparents here for a few days," he replied seriously. "After the New Year, I'm flying abroad to see my mother and Sonny".

"Oh".

The silence returned, heavier this time. Julian felt a sharp pang of regret. Samuel had already mentioned his brother was abroad for medical treatment; asking about his holiday plans was insensitive. He considered an apology, then realized it would only highlight the awkwardness.

"Do you have any hobbies?" Samuel asked suddenly.

Julian looked up, surprised. He isn't angry? The man had shifted the topic, offering him a graceful exit from his own blunder. Julian felt a surge of gratitude, but the question was a trap of its own. His only real hobby was filming cross-dressing videos in his bedroom—a secret he'd take to his grave.

He racked his brain. "I like walking," he offered finally.

"Walking?" Samuel sounded intrigued.

Julian looked at the tablecloth, his voice dropping an octave. "The commute to Apex Capital is beautiful. I enjoy the route". When he'd taken the subway, he'd felt like a sardine on a conveyor belt, a ghost drifting through a city he didn't belong to. Since he'd started walking, he felt like he was finally merging with the streets. The chatter of students in the morning, the neon hum of the taverns at night—it gave him a quiet sense of belonging.

"It's a preserved cultural corridor," Samuel agreed. "The city spent a fortune on those historic blocks. You went to school in Boston—there must have been alleys worth exploring there, too?"

Julian lit up. He began to talk about the brick-lined streets of Boston, the old lanes, the countless miles he'd covered while working part-time jobs during college. He was rarely this talkative, his eyes growing bright and animated.

The arrival of the food cut him short. Julian focused on his silver, the conversation falling away as he navigated the formal French course. The meal was better than he'd imagined—or perhaps it was just the company. He cleared his plate.

When the check arrived, the server instinctively turned toward Samuel, assuming the elder man would pay. Julian moved faster, pulling out his phone.

The server paused, offering an apologetic nod as she handed him the bill. Julian scanned the total. It was the most expensive meal of his life, but he remained a mask of stone as he authorized the payment.

The dishes were cleared, replaced by a fresh carafe of lemon water. It was barely 1:00 PM. Julian poured another glass, his stomach protesting. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to invite Samuel somewhere else, but the man's time was a currency he couldn't afford. Entrepreneurs and investors waited months for a minute of Samuel Frost's attention.

Julian finished his water, his anxiety peaking.

"Finished?" Samuel asked. "Shall we?"

It's over.

"Oh. Yes." Julian stood, his movements slow and leaden. He walked to the door, took his coat from the attendant, and pulled it on. He stepped onto the sidewalk, the midday sun catching the dark silk of his hair. The longing in his eyes was a visible thing.

He didn't say a word. He just offered a small, brittle smile and a wave. "I'll head back then. Goodbye, sir".

Julian turned to walk away, trying to ignore the hollow ache in his chest. It was like a movie ending, or fireworks fading into smoke.

He took three slow steps. Then, a hand clamped around his wrist.

The grip was sudden, hard enough to sting through the fabric of his sleeve. Julian froze. His heart leaped into his throat as he spun around.

Samuel had caught him. Samuel didn't want to leave either.

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The winter sun washed over Samuel, coating him in a soft, golden aura that even warmed the depths of his dark eyes.

Julian stood immersed in that shimmering light, a heavy premonition settling in his chest. Something was about to happen.

Chime.

The restaurant door swung open. A group of diners spilled onto the sidewalk, shattering the fragile equilibrium between them.

Samuel seemed to snap back to himself. He loosened his grip on Julian's wrist only to slide his fingers down, catching Julian's hand in a firm hold. His voice was back to its usual, level calm.

"Do you mind walking with me for a bit? There are a few shops nearby I'd like to check out."

"Sure." Julian nodded, his voice light.

He squinted against the brightness. It was a perfect day. Samuel didn't name a destination, and Julian didn't ask. They walked side-by-side under the ancient sycamores.

Unlike Boston, NYC didn't lose all its leaves in winter; the yellow and green canopy turned translucent like jade under the sun.

A delivery bike swerved the wrong way down the sidewalk. Samuel's arm shot out, pulling Julian close to his side.

"Careful."

Julian's forehead hit Samuel's shoulder. The scent of sandalwood and expensive wool filled his lungs. Julian's face burned from the sun—or maybe something else. He managed a quiet thank you, his pulse racing. He was dangerously happy.

He was still in a daze when Samuel stopped in front of a storefront. "Want to go in?"

It was a cat cafe. Julian's eyes lit up instantly. "I'd love to!"