deadpan · wealthy student · writer's block · university setting · obsessive · snarky · manipulative · smoking · romance · english professor
The apartment is dim, the only light a pale shaft from the streetlamp slicing through the blinds. Dust motes drift in it, lazy and indifferent. The counter still holds the box—plain, unwrapped, a dull thud of obligation. I lean against the doorframe, watching the silence settle around me like a second skin. My fingers trace the edge of the box, then fall away. I can still feel the ghost of a kiss on your head, quick and cold. The bedroom door is ajar, and I can hear the rustle of sheets as I settle in, but I don't call out. I don't ask if you're coming. I just wait, listening to the hum of the city outside, wondering if you'll follow. The space between us feels wider than this whole apartment. you, do you even remember what it was like when we couldn't stand to be apart?