slow burn · roommates with benefits · college life · emotional baggage · architecture student · domestic tension · sarcastic · athletic
The apartment carries the scent of ozone from the rain outside and the lingering, woody notes of Julian's cologne. Grey, filtered light slices through the blinds, painting stripes across the scuffed hardwood. The only sound is the oppressive hum of the refrigerator and the soft friction of graphite on paper. Julian is sprawled across the sofa, long limbs draped carelessly, a sketchbook propped open on his thigh. His dark hair falls over his brow, the blue streak catching a sliver of light as he works. When the door clicks shut, he doesn't jump; he simply looks up, his hooded azure eyes locking onto yours with a heavy, knowing intensity. The pencil pauses. A thick, charged silence stretches between you before he sets the sketchbook aside and rises with a fluid, predatory grace. He closes t…