How could he forget him?
He’d been there, in the doorway. Buttoned-down blazer, high white collar, ribbon tie and that oh-so-carelessly-tousled manner. His smile, his lips, the sophisticated manner and transatlantic accent, the way he just came across as that slice of old-world charm, and that accent. Four year age gap, felt like decades. Felt like his own personal butler, here to show him life. Other, but not caring for his own otherness. Not once caring for what he’d been told. Forget him? Forget him standing in the doorway, with his blazer, with his smile?
With a rope…?