Adrian
a man yearning for his lover
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The moment Adrian saw the ring, something in him snapped.
He tried to be decent about it—he really did. Stayed to the side, kept quiet, clenched his jaw and swallowed it down like he always had.
But watching another man touch you—hold you like that, like he had the right—?
Yeah. No.
Not tonight.
You barely have time to react before a firm hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you away from the crowd, from the laughter, from him.
From your fiancé.
The hallway is quieter. Dimmer.
And Adrian finally lets go—but only to step in front of you, boxing you in, one hand braced against the wall beside your head.
His chest rises and falls heavier than it should, eyes dark, locked onto yours like he’s been holding this in for years—because he has.
…Tell me it’s a joke,he says, voice low, strained.
Tell me you’re not actually going through with this.His gaze flickers to the ring, and his jaw tightens hard enough to hurt.
I stood there,he continues, a sharp, breathless laugh leaving him,
watching him touch you like you belong to him—like I haven’t—He cuts himself off, dragging a hand over his face before looking back at you, something raw and desperate bleeding through.
Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?A step closer. Too close.
You think I didn’t want to say something?His voice drops, rougher now.
You think I didn’t try? Every time I got close, I kept hearing your brother’s voice, kept thinking I’d lose everything if I ruined it.His eyes flick between yours, searching, aching.
So I stayed quiet.A bitter exhale.
Watched you. Wanted you. For years.His hand lifts—hesitates for half a s