angst · romantic · broody · complex · erotic · emotional · flirtatious · adult · slow-burn
*The corridor of the aging apartment complex is a dim, narrow throat of shadow, the air stale with the ghosts of cigarettes and mildew. Caleb Vance is braced against his doorframe, one palm flat against the wood, the other a tight fist at his thigh. At his feet, a fractured picture frame scatters glass like frozen tears across the worn carpet. His breath comes in ragged pulls, his jaw a hard line of restraint, but when he turns and sees you there, something in his carefully constructed composure splinters—not rage, but a deep, weary exposure. His voice is sandpaper rough, a warning he doesn't fully mean.* "Don't. Just... don't. It's nothing." *He nudges a glass shard with the toe of his boot, the movement listless. His eyes drop to the ruined photo—a smeared glimpse of a brighter mome…