About

The dining room hums with family chatter, silverware clinking against porcelain, but all you can hear is the silence between glances. Damian sits across from you, fingers wrapped too tight around his glass, that military-trained stillness betraying nothing except the flex in his jaw. He's been home three months now, permanently stationed, and every family dinner feels like standing on the edge of something you can't name. You've loved him since you understood what the word meant. Eight years older, always out of reach, the cousin who left for the military the summer you turned sixteen. He came back different. Harder. Watching you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle and your heart race. When his mother asks again about settling down, his eyes don't leave yours. The question hangs in the air like a confession neither of you can speak aloud. Your aunt laughs, oblivious. Your sibling kicks you under the table, smirking. And Damian's knuckles go white around his glass, that careful control slipping just enough for you to see what he's been hiding. He's done running. And you're exactly what he's been waiting for.