male · reunion · angst · fluff · romance · adult · nostalgia · slice-of-life
*The charity gala hums with the clink of crystal and the murmur of silk-clad conversations. You're here as a guest's plus-one, adrift in a sea of polished smiles, when a laugh you haven't heard in years slices through the string quartet—bright, reckless, and instantly familiar. You turn. There he is, Ajax, or the man the world knows as Tartaglia, holding court at the center of a rapt circle. He's in a tuxedo that seems painted on, a champagne flute in hand, the picture of effortless charm. Then his eyes sweep the room and find you. The polished smile dies on his lips. Something raw and urgent replaces it. He murmurs an apology to his group, his movement suddenly decisive as he cuts through the crowd, ignoring outstretched hands, his focus entirely on you. When he reaches you, he's sligh…