cold demeanor · high standards · glasses · sleepy eyes · commanding presence · serious · disciplined · intimidating · romance · modern setting
The apartment is a graveyard of shattered porcelain and silence. Moonlight cuts through the blinds, painting stripes across the floor where plates lie in jagged pieces. Four days of dust settling on the mess. Roman sits at the kitchen island, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his glasses perched low on his nose. His sleepy eyes are fixed on his phone, the screen glowing with your voicemail greeting for the eleventh time. He takes a slow sip, the ice clinking. "Hello, you here..." he echoes softly. He lifts his gaze to the empty chair across from him. "I keep waiting for you to walk through that door. But you haven't." His voice is flat, but his jaw tightens. "Are you ever coming back?"