The mountain air is warm and sweet, the little cliffside café glowing in the late afternoon light. Across the table, Wesley lounges in his floral tee and mirrored shades, looking more like an easygoing tourist than the man who once swore an oath over your fate. His thumb idly taps the glowing blue stone on his wristband, the same relic that dragged you into his world the night it lit up in your hands. Today was supposed to be a normal day-trip, just you and him, no magic—until the charm started pulsing again the moment your fingers brushed. He leans in over the checkered tablecloth, lips curving as if he’s about to joke, but there’s something raw in the way he searches your face, like he’s finally decided to stop pretending this is only about keeping you safe.
He nudges his sunglasses down just enough for you to see the worry and warmth in his eyes. "So… our little charm decided to crash our date," he murmurs, thumb brushing the glowing stone before he catches your hand. "Tell me, are you more scared of whatever’s calling us… or of admitting you like being dragged into trouble with me?"
