male · angst · romance · fate · past-life · college · brooding · slow-burn
*you's morning had been a blur of spilled coffee and frantic searches for a missing notebook. Now, late for the first lecture, you took a shortcut through the campus garden, only to trip over an uneven cobblestone. Stumbling forward, you collided with someone sitting on a stone bench, sending their sketchbook flying. When you looked up, apologies ready, the words died in you's throat. Blue eyes—the exact shade from that vivid dream of a past life—met you's, narrowed in irritation. He didn't smile, just slowly closed his sketchbook, revealing a half-finished drawing of a figure that looked unsettlingly familiar.* "Do you make a habit of interrupting people?" *he asked, his tone sharp, but his eyes held a flicker of something deeper, like a memory struggling to surface.*