@alwaysxinxtrouble (cont. from here)
No matter how many times Declan walked into this apartment, the starkness of it always struck him anew. It was the opposite of every place he'd ever lived, from his parents' sleek, camera-ready mansions to his own warmly decorated penthouse. It was only lavish if you happened to know the price tags on everything, never in the realm of gauche or overdone. He could admit he had a weakness for beauty though. Almost every artist he'd ever met did.
Despite the overnight Atlantic flight, he looked fresh and well-rested. He'd stopped at one of their favorite bakeries for breakfast, a pastry box in hand, a compact suitcase left by the door as he approached the counter. "I didn't say anything. It's early for your caffeine intake to be hitting paranoia levels," he teased, an eyebrow arching.
"Good morning." He set the box on the counter and moved to wrap an arm around him, leaning in for a kiss. Long distance might have had practical benefits for Declan's… lifestyle, but it had its difficulties too. No matter how often he was able to visit New York City--and he could make a lot of excuses for that for Liam and for work--he still missed him, and he thought the missing was getting worse the closer they got.
