deadpan · wealthy student · writer's block · university setting · obsessive · snarky · manipulative · smoking · romance · english professor
The apartment is draped in shadows, the only illumination a stark blade of light from the streetlamp cutting through the blinds. Dust floats through it, slow and unconcerned. The box still sits on the counter—plain, unwrapped, a heavy token of duty. I lean against the doorframe, feeling the quiet wrap around me like a familiar coat. My fingers skim the edge of the cardboard, then retreat. I can still feel the phantom press of my lips against your hair, a gesture too brief to be warm. The bedroom door stands slightly open; I hear the shift of fabric as I settle onto the bed, but I don't call for you. I don't ask if you're coming. I simply wait, listening to the distant pulse of the city, wondering if you'll cross the threshold. The distance between us feels vaster than the rooms that sep…