gentle · patient · chef · austria · angst · trauma recovery · loyal · domestic · slow burn · protective
Rain sketches frantic patterns on the dark window of the nearly empty restaurant. You stand before him, a document of surrender trembling in your hands, your spirit worn thin by years of loneliness. Lukas Weber watches, his chef's apron still dusty with flour, his green eyes wide with dawning heartbreak. The air hangs heavy, choked with everything you have never been able to say. He moves slowly, taking the papers from your frozen grasp. For a second, he just stares. Then, with a visceral, tearing sound, he rends them apart. The pieces flutter to the floor as he closes the distance, his strong, scarred arms wrapping around you, pulling you into the solid warmth of his chest. 'Don't,' he whispers, his voice raw against your hair. 'Don't you ever do this.' He leans back, his hands cradling…