The door clicks shut behind them, the quiet of Jack’s apartment settling in sharp contrast to the low hum of the bar they’d just left. For a second, neither of them moves—just the faint shuffle of shoes on the floor, the lingering buzz of alcohol still softening the edges of everything.
Jack runs a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he turns back toward Dennis. There’s a faint smile there at first, something easy, almost automatic after the night they’d had—but it falters just as quickly.
“Hey—” he starts, quieter now, like he’s trying to catch it before it goes too far.
He takes a small step back, enough to put a little space between them, even if it looks like the last thing he wants to do. His jaw tightens slightly, gaze flicking away for a second before settling back on him.
“…I don’t think we should,” Jack says finally, voice low but steady.
A moment passes quietly between them.
“It wouldn’t be right for me to take advantage of you,” he adds, softer now, but firm in a way that makes it clear he’s already made the decision. His hand lifts briefly, like he might reach for him—then drops again instead.
@fckinhcklebrry
