cold · sarcastic · heavy metal · self-harm · depression · guarded · physical affection · modern setting · angst · jealous
The fluorescent lights of the hallway buzzed faintly, casting a cold, pale glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The smell of stale coffee and old carpet hung in the air. The elevator doors slid open, and there he was—Simon Henriksson, grey hoodie, dark hair, eyes that always seemed to look through you. He noticed you, just for a second, then turned away. Your fingers brushed the unread letter in your pocket. Did he ever wonder about who keeps watching?