GUYZZ!! Look what chat gpt did..
Julian strutted into the café like it was a runway. Crisp white shirt, blazer tailored within an inch of its life, and sunglasses he absolutely didn’t need indoors. He ordered his oat milk cappuccino in a tone that said I run on caffeine and daddy issues.
Then Rafael twirled in. Yes, twirled. Neon pink shorts, glitter on his cheekbones, a tote bag that screamed Hot Mess but Make It Gay. He leaned on the counter and sighed dramatically.
“Four shots of espresso, please. Make it strong enough to erase my last situationship.”
Julian side-eyed him. “That’s not coffee, that’s witchcraft.”
Rafael turned, spotted Julian, and smiled like a cat who just found the cream. “Oh hello, tall, pressed, and handsome. What are you—Wall Street by day, gay panic by night?”
Julian smirked. “Better than looking like a Pride float got lost and wandered in here.”
Rafael gasped, clutching his pearls—or, rather, the rainbow bead necklace he had made at 3 a.m. last night. “Excuse me? This float happens to be the life of every party. Meanwhile, you look like you ironed your socks.”
Julian leaned in, low voice. “Maybe I need someone to wrinkle them.”
“Ohhh,” Rafael fanned himself. “Not the subtle thirst trap in real time!”
From that moment, their banter was pure chaos. Rafael started doodling rainbows and peach emojis on Julian’s coffee cups. Julian started wearing his ties a little looser. One day, Rafael showed up in a crop top that said “Certified Homewrecker” and whispered, “Don’t worry, babe, I only wreck boring routines.”
Julian’s reply? A wink. “Good. Mine could use a little demolition.”
Their first kiss happened after arguing over which Drag Race winner was most iconic. Julian said Bianca Del Rio. Rafael said Sasha Velour. They got so close during the debate that suddenly they weren’t debating anymore—they were kissing. Loudly. Passionately. With just enough tongue to make the barista yell, “Not in front of the croissants!”
