When Damien stepped out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, his dark brown hair still damp, a few last droplets of water dripping onto the towel hanging around his neck, the apartment was quiet and dark. There was only moonlight falling through the window, faint warm light seeping through the crack in the door of the master bedroom…
And a trail of red rose petals leading to said door.
The corners of his mouth lifted a bit. Somehow, it seemed so unusual, and yet Lane's style, in a way. Like it wasn't something Lane would typically do, but it wasn't surprising either. Perhaps because Lane wasn't a romantic type, when he was trying to be romantic, he picked something very cliche.
It was cliche without a doubt, but to Damien, it was endearing. Lane was putting on effort to create a romantic atmosphere.
