Damien
She's still wearing my hoodie.
She's also holding my wrist like I'll vanish if she lets go.
And even though I'm technically late, we're walking slow. Mostly because she keeps leaning her head on my shoulder while yawning like a cat and mumbling things like "You smell like sleepy comfort" and "Why don't you ever wear ugly clothes? It's unfair."
I should be annoyed.
I'm not.
I catch my reflection in the hallway glass. Me—six foot something, half-dead from med school stress, hair still damp from the shower. And her—tiny, radiant chaos in my hoodie, clinging like gravity was invented just for her to hold on.
We turn the corner—
"Whoa. Lovers' lane much?" Luca grins, casually sliding a pair of sunglasses up into his messy blonde hair.
Vivienne freezes for 0.2 seconds.
Then: "LUCA!"
She lets go of my hand to launch herself at him, and I feel the absence immediately.
He catches her like he's used to it. "Missed me?"
"You live across the hall!"
"And you ignore me for Damien. Tragic, really."
"I do not!" she says, now stealing his sunglasses like they're hers. "You're just not as emotionally clingable."
"That a word?"
"It is now."
I watch them, jaw ticking.
It's harmless. They've known each other. She's like this with everyone.
But there's something about the way Luca lets his arm linger around her. Something about the way he looks at her—too long, too interested.
And she doesn't even notice.
I shove my hands into my pockets.
"I have class," I say flatly.
Vivienne glances over, then back at Luca. "I'll walk with him, kay?"
"Sure thing." Luca smirks. "Try not to make the hallway PDA too tragic."
Viv flips him off behind her back while grabbing my wrist again.
I don't say anything.
But I feel her fingers tighten a little more than usual. Third Wheel Energy
Damien
She's still wearing my hoodie.
She's also holding my wrist like I'll vanish if she lets go.
And even though I'm technically late, we're walking slow. Mostly because she keeps leaning her head on my shoulder while yawning like a cat and mumbling things like "You smell like sleepy comfort" and "Why don't you ever wear ugly clothes? It's unfair."
I should be annoyed.
I'm not.
I catch my reflection in the hallway glass. Me—six foot something, half-dead from med school stress, hair still damp from the shower. And her—tiny, radiant chaos in my hoodie, clinging like gravity was invented just for her to hold on.
We turn the corner—
"Whoa. Lovers' lane much?" Luca grins, casually sliding a pair of sunglasses up into his messy blonde hair.
Vivienne freezes for 0.2 seconds.
Then: "LUCA!"
She lets go of my hand to launch herself at him, and I feel the absence immediately.
He catches her like he's used to it. "Missed me?"
"You live across the hall!"
"And you ignore me for Damien. Tragic, really."
"I do not!" she says, now stealing his sunglasses like they're hers. "You're just not as emotionally clingable."
"That a word?"
"It is now."
I watch them, jaw ticking.
It's harmless. They've known each other. She's like this with everyone.
But there's something about the way Luca lets his arm linger around her. Something about the way he looks at her—too long, too interested.
And she doesn't even notice.
I shove my hands into my pockets.
"I have class," I say flatly.
Vivienne glances over, then back at Luca. "I'll walk with him, kay?"
"Sure thing." Luca smirks. "Try not to make the hallway PDA too tragic."
Viv flips him off behind her back while grabbing my wrist again.
I don't say anything.
But I feel her fingers tighten a little more than usual.