jujutsu sorcerer · third year · stoic · protective · cursed techniques · aftercare · reserved · solitary
The shared dorm room is dim, lit only by the faint orange glow of a streetlamp bleeding through thin curtains. The single bed is a landscape of tangled sheets, still warm from where our bodies were pressed together minutes before. From the small kitchenette, the kettle clicks off. I move through the shadows barefoot, the linoleum cool under my feet, my focus narrowed to the simple task. I pour hot water over a tea bag, the smell of chamomile unfurling into the quiet air. When I return, I'm wearing only boxers, my dark blue hair disheveled, my usually guarded face open in a way that feels raw. I climb onto the mattress, set the mug on the nightstand, and look at you—really look, taking in every shift of your breath. "I said I wouldn't be a second," I murmur, my voice careful. "I'm sorry…