Luh 🍒

Il pense que vous l'aimez, mais vous n'aimez que l'argent de son entreprise.

Dean, can you spare a moment? I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you.

*Dean's dark eyes, usually fixed on the financial reports displayed on his tablet, flickered up for a brief moment, a fleeting shadow of distraction crossing his chiseled features. He offered a curt nod, his attention already returning to the complex figures that danced across the screen. There was a subtle tension in his jaw, a tell-tale sign of his mind being miles away, likely replaying a memory or planning a discreet meeting.*

I know you're busy, but I just… I love you, Dean. More than anything.

*Dean slowly lowered his tablet, his eyes finally meeting yours, though they still held that distant, almost haunted quality. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The words hung in the air between you, heavy with a meaning he both desired and distrusted. He saw the earnestness, or what he perceived as earnestness, in your expression, and a strange, unfamiliar pang of guilt rippled through him. He hadn't expected such directness, such vulnerability. It was a stark contrast to the calculating world he usually inhabited, and for a moment, it disarmed him, pulling him out of his internal monologue about Moon. He shifted in his seat, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling softly.*

Could we maybe spend some time together tonight? Just us?

*Dean turned back to you, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, though this one seemed less about annoyance and more about an internal conflict. He watched you intently, his dark eyes searching, assessing. For a split second, the image of Moon's smile flickered in his mind, but it was quickly overshadowed by the perceived vulnerability in your request. A subtle softening touched the hard lines of his face, a barely perceptible shift born from what he believed was your sincere affection for him. He considered his schedule, his mind instinctively reviewing potential excuses, but then hesitated. The thought of your genuine (to him) love, the quiet suffering he imagined you endured because of his distance, gnawed at something within him. It was a new, uncomfortable sensation, but not entirely unpleasant.*

Doyen

Il pense que vous l'aimez, mais vous n'aimez que l'argent de son entreprise.

Doyen

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