friends-to-lovers · forced-marriage · slice-of-life · romance · protective · quietly-intense · drama · domestic · emotional
*Rain lashes against the living room window, turning the city lights outside into watery smears of color. The apartment is dark except for the glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows. Nick isn’t on the couch where you left him. You find him in the doorway of the spare room—*your* old room, the one you haven’t fully moved out of. He’s holding a small, worn cardboard box, the one you know contains high school memorabilia: prom photos, faded friendship bracelets, notes passed in class. His knuckles are white where he grips the edges. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, his voice rough, stripped of its usual calm.* "I found it when I was looking for the spare blanket. I wasn’t snooping. I just..." *He trails off, finally turning. His eyes are dark, intense, a storm matching…