Out of the blue, without any real planning or conscious thought, Jean found herself standing outside the vinyl shop. She glanced up at the crooked, weathered sign above the dusty window, an old, creaking thing that seemed to defy time itself. She didn’t quite know what had drawn her there. Just a quiet, restless pull in her chest. An impulse she couldn’t describe.

Before reason could catch up, before she had time to talk herself out of it, she reached for the brass handle and pushed the door open. It was cold beneath her touch.

The soft chime of the bell cut through the dusk stillness, echoing in the quiet space. Behind the counter, Levi looked up from a stack of records cradled in one arm, his expression distracted.

“Sorry, miss, we're about to shut up sh—” He paused mid-sentence, his eyes widening in surprise. “Wait—Jean?”

“Hey,” she said, offering a small, uncertain wave, her usual confidence slightly muted by her own unexpected arrival. “I can hang about until you're done, if that’s alright.”

Levi blinked, clearly caught off guard by her sudden appearance, then a warm, welcoming smile spread across his face, chasing away the surprise. He gestured her further into the shop.

“Yeah… yeah, of course. Come in. You alright, love?”

“Take your time,” Jean replied, brushing past the counter as her gaze drifted to the familiar shelves. “Just browsing for now.”

Levi nodded, quietly moving to lock the front door behind her. The click of the lock made a definitive sound, marking the transition from an open shop to something more private, from hours to after hours. 

He went back to finishing his closing routine, but he kept stealing glances in her direction. Jean was still drifting quietly between shelves, her silhouette sliding in and out of view between towers of records.

When he finally finished and found her again, she was seated near the back of the shop, her legs crossed comfortably beneath her. An old french jazz record rested in her lap. She traced the edge of its faded sleeve with slow, careful fingers, as though the music inside might shatter if she moved too quickly.

“You never did answer me,” Levi said, voice low, as if not to startle the moment. “When I asked if you were alright.”

Jean didn’t look up. Her eyes remained on the artwork.

“I didn’t know how to answer, really.”

A pause.

“Besides… I didn’t come here to talk.”

"Oh," Levi said, caught a little off balance by her cryptic response, his expression momentarily blank. "Right. Sorry. You've caught me a bit off guard, that's all."

Without warning, Jean stood. Quick. Almost startled by her own presence there. She still held the record in her hands.

“Right. I’ll be off then. This was stupid. Forget it ever happened, yeah?”

She turned fast for the door, her cheeks flushed with something between embarrassment and unfamiliar vulnerability she hadn’t expected to show. But before she could reach the door, Levi stepped forward with urgency.

“Wait, Jean.” His voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for retreat. “I never said I wasn’t keen.”

She froze, her hand hovering over the brass doorknob, her back still turned to him.

"Really? Look, I'd understand if you weren't. I didn't think this through. I just showed up and now—"

"You said you didn't come here to talk, remember?" Levi interrupted gently, his gaze fixed at her.

Jean opened her mouth to respond, to offer some kind of explanation, but the words seemed to catch in her throat, lost in the sudden, charged atmosphere that had sprung up between them.

Levi stepped closer, his presence filling her vision as she turned to face him. 

Then closer still.

The air was crackling with something quiet yet intense. A pause so heavy it felt like the whole shop was holding its breath.

And then he kissed her.

It was slow at first. Cautious. Not rushed or reckless, but considered like he was seeking some sort of confirmation from her. A hand extended, waiting to be taken. 

Jean didn't pull away.

Her fingers, which had been gripping the record, tightened on the edge of his shirt, the fabric bunching slightly in her grasp as the kiss deepened, the swift tension that had been building between them finally unraveling into something heavier, something certain and undeniable.

Levi’s hand found hers, gently taking the record from her hold and placing it on the nearest shelf. Then, without a word, he guided her towards the back of the shop, near the seating area. Their bodies drawn to each other with a magnetic pull neither had dared to fully acknowledge until now. The soft hum of the closing hours surrounded them, the outside world fading away, and the flickering warmth of the shop's old floor lamp cast long, dancing shadows across the rows of vinyl sleeves, creating an intimate, almost dreamlike space.

They held each other close.

Hands tangled in hair. Fingers grazing backs. Their hearts are moving in sync.

No second guesses. No glances edged with doubt.

Just this.

A moment—shared, raw, and wordless.

A confession in the quiet.

A feeling finally set free.