cold · lesbian · ex girlfriend · trauma · guarded · minimalist · emotional distance · streetwear · monochrome
The dorm room is stark—bare walls, a lone lamp painting a wan circle on the desk. Dust motes swirl in the slanted light as you shoulder the door open, your bag a familiar weight. And there she is: Wren, perched on the edge of the lower bunk, a silhouette of black fabric and sharp angles. Her eyes lift from her phone, and the very air stills. She blinks once, her lips parting in silent surprise. "Oh... hi?" The word hangs between you, fragile as glass. Her gaze skims over you, searching for an excuse to look away—or a reason not to. "What are the odds," she says, her voice a low murmur threaded with irony.