The weekend sunlight spilled across the city like gold dust, glinting off glass windows and warming the stone pavement underfoot. After weeks of brittle cold and gray skies, the sudden burst of brightness made the streets feel alive again. People shed their heavy coats for lighter jackets, strolled hand in hand, and lingered outside cafés whose windows fogged with warmth.
Jade adjusted his scarf as he walked, blinking against the sunlight. He wasn’t sure why he’d said yes to Adrien’s casual, almost offhand invitation “There’s an exhibit opening this weekend. Come with me.” Adrien hadn’t phrased it like a question. Yet here Jade was, notebook tucked in his bag, boots clicking nervously on the cobblestones.
He spotted Adrien waiting by the gallery steps, leaning against the railing as if it were a throne. Even in casual clothes a plain black turtleneck under a camel coat, dark jeans, leather boots he exuded an air of quiet command. His sunglasses caught the sunlight, hiding his eyes, but the faint curve of his mouth was enough to make Jade’s stomach twist.
“You came,” Adrien said as Jade approached, voice smooth but touched with something like satisfaction.
“Y-yeah,” Jade stammered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’ve never been here before.”
“Then today’s a good day to start,” Adrien replied, holding the door open with a small flourish.
Inside the Gallery
The interior was hushed, almost reverent. White walls stretched high, sunlight pouring through the skylights above. Paintings lined the corridors bold abstracts, delicate sketches, surreal landscapes that seemed to blur the edge between reality and dream.
Jade’s steps slowed as he entered, his eyes widening. He wasn’t an artist, but something about the colors and strokes reached into him, tugging at words that he didn’t yet know how to write.
Adrien watched him, amused. “You look like you’re about to fall into one of the canvases.”
Jade flushed. “It’s just… beautiful. Like there’s something happening beneath the surface. You can almost hear it.”
Adrien tilted his head, studying him with quiet intensity. “That’s what I like about you. Most people just glance, nod, move on. You stop. You listen.”
The words sent a strange warmth through Jade’s chest. He ducked his head, embarrassed, but Adrien’s gaze lingered as if etching the moment into memory.
They moved slowly through the gallery, Adrien occasionally offering sly observations that made Jade laugh. At one painting a swirl of midnight blues with a streak of crimson slashing through it Adrien leaned closer, murmuring, “Reminds me of you.”
Jade blinked. “What? Why?”
“The contrast,” Adrien said simply. “Quiet, but there’s fire under there. A spark you don’t even see in yourself.”
Jade’s cheeks burned. He opened his notebook impulsively, scribbling something down before he lost the feeling. Adrien didn’t interrupt, just watched with faint amusement as Jade’s pen scratched furiously.
When Jade finally noticed, he groaned. “Don’t look it’s not even finished!”
Adrien smirked. “I don’t need to. The fact that you wanted to write it down says enough.”
After the gallery, Adrien led him a few blocks away to a small café tucked between tall brick buildings. The outdoor tables glistened in the sunlight, but they chose a spot inside by the wide window. The air smelled of roasted coffee beans and warm pastries.
Adrien ordered for both of them without asking, as if he already knew what Jade would like. A cappuccino for himself, a honey latte for Jade, plus a plate of almond croissants.
“You didn’t have to” Jade began, but Adrien cut him off with a lazy smile.
“Relax. Just enjoy it.”
Jade tried, though the thrum of nerves in his chest made it difficult. But as the conversation unfolded, he found himself laughing more easily than he expected. Adrien had a sharp wit, but he wasn’t unkind—not today. He told stories about ridiculous classmates, absurd professors, the time he’d been forced into a student theater production and promptly forgotten his lines.
Jade laughed so hard his glasses nearly slipped off, his shoulders shaking. Adrien leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee with a smug expression that only made Jade laugh more.
“You’re impossible,” Jade managed between giggles.
“And yet,” Adrien drawled, “you’re here with me instead of anyone else.”
The words hit harder than Jade expected. He ducked his head, hiding his smile behind the rim of his latte cup.
For a moment, the café blurred into warmth and sunlight, the rest of the world falling away. It felt dangerously close to a date, though neither of them said it outright.
What Jade didn’t see what neither of them noticed was Danielle standing across the street. He had been on his way to pick up some supplies for class when he spotted them through the café window.
Jade. Laughing.
Laughing in a way Danielle hadn’t seen in weeks.
And across from him Adrien, leaning casually in his chair, eyes fixed on Jade with a focus so sharp it made Danielle’s stomach twist.
The sight rooted Danielle to the sidewalk. A thousand words rose to his tongue—warnings, pleas, confessions—but none of them left his lips. Instead, he just stood there, clutching the strap of his bag until his knuckles whitened, watching as the two inside shared croissants and sunlight like they belonged to a world without him.
For the first time, Danielle felt the full weight of what he was losing.
Jade brushed crumbs from his scarf, cheeks pink from laughter. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this light.”
Adrien leaned closer, voice low. “Good. That’s what I want. To see you like this.”
Jade froze, the air between them thickening. Adrien’s gaze didn’t waver, steady and intent, as if peeling away every layer Jade tried to hide behind.
Something fluttered dangerously in Jade’s chest, equal parts fear and longing. He opened his mouth whether to protest, deflect, or confess, he didn’t know.
But then Adrien leaned back, his smile slipping back into something teasing. “Careful. People might think this is a date.”
Jade’s heart lurched. “I—it’s not—”
“Relax,” Adrien interrupted smoothly. “I’m kidding.” But his eyes said otherwise.
By the time Jade finally left Adrien at the train station, the sun was sinking low, casting the city in amber light. His heart still raced with every word, every laugh replaying in his mind.
Danielle sat on his bed that evening, phone in hand. The screen glowed against the dim of his room, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
Jade. Be careful with Adrien. He’s not who you think he is.
He stared at the message for a long time, chest aching. He imagined Jade reading it, imagined the wall it would put between them. He imagined Adrien smirking in victory.
With a bitter exhale, Danielle hit delete. The screen went blank.
He tossed the phone aside, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. His heart cracked quietly in the dark.
ns216.73.217.69da2
and then Add to home screen.