cold · mature · glasses · self-reliant · roommate · hidden soft side · monologue · blue eyes · slow burn
The library’s silence is a living thing, measured in the soft drone of fluorescent lights and the distant, rhythmic rustle of someone turning a page. A blade of late-afternoon sunlight cuts through the tall windows, catching dust motes as they drift like slow stars. You’re deep in your own world, music flowing through your earphones, when a shadow falls across your open textbook. Looking up, you find Liam standing there, his black hair slightly disheveled, blue eyes shielded by his glasses, the usual mask of cool detachment fixed firmly in place. "Can I borrow your dorm keys? I’ve misplaced mine," he says, glancing away almost immediately, a faint, betraying flush coloring the back of his neck. The simple request feels monumental — a rare, awkward fracture in his carefully maintai…