Julian had been at Apex Capital for over six months. Receiving his degree was a procedural blink—a box to be checked before diving back into the hyper-accelerated rhythm of the firm.

He returned to the office the next morning to find the atmospheric pressure in the executive suite had shifted.

Samuel was usually a machine of surgical focus, a man who possessed a baseline of a hundred percent intensity every time Julian saw him. Now, the MD was staring into space.

Samuel had a face designed for high-end cinema—sharp, beautiful, and typically a mask of elite professional detachment.

But the slight slack in his jaw and the hollow look in his eyes gave him a literary melancholy. He was a man with a story he wasn't telling. Julian watched him through the glass partition, but he didn't dare cross the line.

Julian cornered Asher by the breakroom. Asher's expression went immediately guarded. "It's not work-related, Julian. Leave it be".

Not work. That meant personal—Frost family drama. Julian thought of the exiled Sonny and the heavy hand of Harold, but he had no standing to offer comfort. He wasn't part of that world. He kept his head down and focused on his spreadsheets.

That night, a message from Orca lit up his screen.

@Orca: I want to see you.

It had been three months since their last meeting. Julian had already begun the process of mentally closing that chapter.

@WorkIsKillingMe: Can we do another day? I just got back from a trip. I'm swamped. I don't know when I'll be off.

@Orca: I'll wait.

@WorkIsKillingMe: It might be very late.

@Orca: I will wait.

The finality of the last message left Julian with no exits. He couldn't be cold enough to ignore a man who sounded that desperate.

He didn't clear his queue until midnight. They met at the same tavern in NYC where they had spent Valentine's Day. Orca was already there, several empty glasses lined up on the table in front of him.

Julian sat down. Orca looked up, his eyes shielded by the dark lenses as always. "You came".

"I came," Julian replied.

"Want a drink?"

Julian thought of his 9:00 AM call. "No."

Orca went quiet, staring at the amber residue in his glass. "Then just sit with me for a bit".

Julian nodded. The tavern was nearly empty. The music had been dialed down to a whisper, a low hum that seemed afraid to wake the sleeping city.

Julian didn't check his phone; it felt like an insult to the heavy silence between them. He picked up a pamphlet for an academic seminar that had been left on the table and began to read, letting the text anchor him.

Eventually, Orca stood. "I'm finished."

"Leaving?" Julian asked, setting the paper aside.

"Walk with me."

They stepped out into the NYC night. The historic buildings stood like sentinels under the yellow glow of the streetlights. They walked for a long time, the air cooling the heat of the alcohol Orca had consumed.

There were no words. Julian felt the man wanted to say something, but the words seemed to die before they reached his lips.

When the car stopped at Julian's gate, Orca lingered.

"Orca," Julian said softly. "Are you okay?".

The man hesitated. "I'm fine."

Julian didn't believe him. Orca looked small in the shadow of his own luxury car. Julian took a step forward and opened his arms, pulling the man into a brief, light embrace.

He didn't offer the usual empty platitudes—it'll be okay, everything passes. He simply held him, remembering the nights he had wanted someone to do the same for him.

Orca's body went rigid for a heartbeat. He didn't return the hug, but his hand came up, gripping Julian's shoulder for a fraction of a second.

Julian pulled back. "I'm going in."

"Can I see you again?" Orca asked.

Julian didn't have a reason to say yes. The spark of their "One-Day Couple" shoot was a distant memory, but he looked at Orca's masked face and felt a sharp pang of pity.

"Sure," Julian said. "When I'm free."

"Thank you," Orca replied, his voice a low, heavy baritone. "Not too often. I know you're busy".

Julian offered a small wave and vanished into the building.

Inside the duplex, he pulled off his coat, the scent of expensive wine and cold NYC air clinging to the fabric. He hung his suit by the door and found himself thinking of the executive suite at Apex Capital. He thought of the man staring out the window, lost in a gloom Julian couldn't touch.

He could offer Orca a hug out of pity, but he wondered: when a man like Samuel was hurting, who was there to hold him?