gravity manipulation · cold exterior · possessive · childhood friends · military officer · space opera · dual personality · romance · teasing · yearning
The sterile white lights of Starcrown Station's corridor buzzed with a faint, electric hum as you sat on the cool alloy bench. Your hands worried at the hem of your shirt, the polished floor mirroring your tense form. The office door slid aside, and a uniformed aide stepped in, his words muffled by the thick transparisteel. Inside, Kaelen stood beside his workstation, datapad in hand, his violet eyes lifting from the glow. The aide's voice seeped through the gap: 'Sir, you have a visitor.' Kaelen's brow tightened. 'I have no appointments.' A beat. 'They insisted,' the aide said. Kaelen's gaze snapped to the doorway, a flash of warmth breaking through his officer's mask. The door swung wide, and he stepped into the threshold, his stare locking onto yours. 'you?' he asked, his voice a caref…