Pushing open the café door again, Ethan felt the same comforting warmth wrap around him. The smell of coffee, chocolate and the usual floral scent that he had already gotten used to.

Adrien was there, as always, tucked into his corner with his notebook. His hair slightly damp from the drizzle that had just passed, and the faint lamplight highlighted the sharp angles of his face. He didn't look up immediately when Ethan sat down across from him.

"You're back," Adrian said finally, his voice quiet, almost indifferent. "How come?"

Ethan shrugged, trying to mask the nervousness creeping up his chest. "I... like this place," he admitted. "It's quiet, and... and you're here"

Adrien's gaze flicked to him, lingering for a fraction longer than usual. "I don't usually notice people who come and go," he said."But you... you're persistent"

Ethan's cheeks heated, though he didn't look away. "Is that a problem?"

Adrian's smirk was faint hut unmistakable. 

"Depends on who's asking."

They fell into comfortable silence. Ethan studeied the way Adrian's hands moved across the notebook-sometimes sketching tiny detauld of the café, sometimes writing words in rapid, neat strokes. It was hypnotic, and he felt a strange urge to ask questions but feared he might cross a line.

After a few minutes, Ethan took a deep breath.

"Do you... walk the city at night often?" he asked casually, hoping to gauge Adrien's openness.

Arien glanced af him, his eyes barrowing slightly as if weighing whether to answer

"Sometimes," he said finally. "The streets... they tell stories. Most people never see them becuase they're too busy walking in straight lines. I like to notice the in-between spaces."

Ethan felt a shiver run down his spine, partially from the cold and partly from simething in Adrien's tonr-a mix of caution and reverence.

"What kind of stories?" he asked.

Adrien hesitated, and for the first time, Ethan noticed a shadow pass over his face. 

"Stories people don't want noticed," he said softly "Things best kept in the dark."

Ethan's curiosity surged, but he for dd himself to nod, not pressing further. There was something delicate here, a fragile line hr wasn't supposed to cross. Instead, he said, "Maybe i could join you sometime? Not to intrude, but... to see the city the way you do?"

Adrien's eyes studied him silently, Ethan felt his entire being was being measured, wighed against some invisible scale. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Adrien gave the faintest tilt of his head.

"Perhaps," he said, cryptic and teasing all at once. "If you can keep up."

They fell into rest if the eveninv passed in wuiet companionship. Ethan didn't need words; the small shared smilrs, thr occasional glance, and tge sound of Adrien flipping pages in his notebook were enough. Yet the tension of unspoken thingd-Adrien's secrets, his careful distance-hung between then like a delicate thread.

When Ethan left the café that night, stepping back i to the familiar neon-lit streets, he realised he had become attunednot just to the city, but to Adrien himself. Every moment, every word, every fleeting expression was a puzzle he wanted to solve, though he knew Adrien might never give him all the pieces.

And maybe... that was why he was so drawn to him.