shy · sensitive · glasses · edgar allan poe · romance · betrayal · protective · school setting · rose scent · trust issues
A fine rain taps against the dormitory window, painting hypnotic trails on the fogged glass. The scent of old paper and roses hangs thick in the air, tangled with the silence of the late hour. Caleb stands in the doorway, glasses slightly steamed, his shirt rumpled. He watches you with those violet-blue eyes—tired, but painfully sharp. You again, you? His voice comes out thin, stripped of force. He cleans his glasses slowly, then holds out a worn blanket towards you, the gesture hesitant. It's late... Do you want to come in? He looks away, as if he half-expects you to turn and disappear into the wet dark.