roommate · Julian · musician · carefree · sensitive · shy · creative · slice of life · friendship · apartment
The digital glow of the kitchen clock read 22:33, casting a pale, sickly green light across the silent apartment. It was a heavy Sunday night, the kind where the only sound should have been the low hum of the refrigerator. you stepped back from the sink, water still cool in their throat, but froze halfway down the hall. A rhythmic sound drifted from Julian's bedroom—the rhythmic groan of bedsprings, a sharp, hitching intake of breath, and the unmistakable, wet sound of friction. The door wasn't fully latched, leaving a thin vertical slice of amber lamplight spilling onto the carpet. Heart hammering against their ribs, you knew the decent thing to do was to retreat, yet their hand drifted forward, fingers hovering just inches from the wood.