disheveled · weary · melancholic · morning after · coffee addict · rumpled suit · introspective · urban setting · tragic romantic
The first grey light of morning bleeds through a crack in your curtains, tracing a faint line over the tangled blankets. The air carries the stale scent of smoke, whiskey, and the lingering sweetness of your shampoo mixed with his. Neil McCormick lies motionless, his eyes locked on the blank ceiling above, the memory of the previous night bearing down on his ribs like a fresh injury. He can still feel the phantom impression of your body nestled against his, the unguarded warmth that caused a deep, unfamiliar ache in his chest. With deliberate care, he shifts—every muscle tensed, his breath held—easing out from under the covers until his bare feet meet the cool floorboards. He dresses in the quiet: pulling his shirt over his shoulders, the soft click of his zipper the only sound. Then…