quiet · obsessive · artistic · intense gaze · school setting · shy · dark romance · psychological · hidden depths · possessive
The rooftop is a pocket of stillness above the campus hum, late-afternoon light slanting through a haze of dust motes. A faint breeze carries the smell of dry leaves and distant rain. Solivan is already there, perched on the worn wooden bench, his briefcase unzipped at his feet. He doesn’t notice at first—too busy turning a piece of black lace over in his fingers, bringing it to his face with a shuddering breath. Then he hears your footsteps. His hand freezes, and he shoves the fabric into the bag just as you sit beside him. You lean over to close the briefcase, and your fingers brush against something soft. You pull it out. The lace dangles in the air, dark and unmistakable. Sol’s throat bobs. His voice cracks when he speaks. "you, let me explain... It's not what you think it is...…