He stopped immediately and turned around. "What is it?"
I’m not sure what happened. One moment I was standing there, telling myself not to be dramatic, reciting an internal pep talk about being a grown-up who could handle a two-night separation.
The next second... my feet were moving on their own, my pep talk apparently overruled by a more primal part of me that decided dignity was optional.
The polished floor felt suddenly too smooth under my socks, as if it had conspired with whatever reckless part of my brain had taken the wheel.
I crossed the room in three quick steps and threw my arms around him. The impact made him stumble back a half-step, one hand flying out to grab the doorframe to steady himself.
The solid wood of the frame creaked faintly under his grip, and the faint scent of cold air from the hallway slipped in around us.
"...Oliver?"
I buried my face against his chest before my pride could stop me, inhaling the familiar, unfairly expensive scent of his cologne like it might last me for two fucking, stupid ass days.
The soft fabric of his coat pressed against my cheek, still carrying the warmth of his body, and for a second I could almost pretend the suitcase by his feet didn’t exist.
In the back of my mind, a ridiculous realization hit me. We’d never actually been apart before. Not really. Since I moved in, he’d always been there.
Reading, cooking, studying, annoying me, laughing with me, sleeping beside me. Now, for the first time, the apartment would only echo with one heartbeat, and the thought was heavier than I’d expected.
The quiet that would settle over the rooms suddenly felt vast and cold, like an empty stage after the lights had gone out.
His arms wrapped around me slowly. A quiet laugh escaped him. "I thought you said you wouldn’t miss me."
"...Shut up."
"So you are going to miss me."
"I said shut up, idiot."
Instead of arguing further, I hugged him tighter, my fingers digging into the back of his jacket. The expensive material bunched slightly under my grip. His teasing smile softened into something a lot gentler.
I felt his chin rest lightly against my hair, the weight grounding in a way I wasn’t ready to admit. The gentle pressure of it made the rest of the world, the waiting car, the ticking clock, the polite presence of Harris...fade a little further into the background.
"...Dammit." His voice was barely a whisper. "...How I wish I could just take you with me."
My heart did unnecessary gymnastics, the kind that left me winded and annoyed at my own body for betraying me so easily. A soft heat spread across my cheeks, and I was grateful my face was still hidden against his chest so he couldn’t see the full extent of the damage.
"Do you think your family would be surprised if I snuck into your suitcase?"
"They probably would."
He leaned back just enough to meet my gaze. His icy blue eyes held mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the noise of the hallway and Harris’ polite silence fading into background noise.
The soft golden light from the living room lamp caught in his irises, making them look almost luminous against the darker hallway behind him.
Then he cupped my face and kissed me again, slowly. There was no urgency, no teasing, just warmth...the kind that settled quietly in my chest and lingered long after his lips left mine.
His thumbs brushed lightly along my cheekbones, a careful, almost reverent touch that made the moment feel heavier than it had any right to.
When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads touched, both of us breathing a little unevenly. "I’ll make it up to you."
"Huh?"
"When I get back." He smiled. "I’ll take you somewhere special for winter break."
"...Really?"
"Really."
I tried not to smile too much but failed spectacularly, my grin spreading across my face before I could stop it, because it meant he’d actually come back. The promise settled somewhere warm and stubborn behind my ribs. "I’ll hold you to that."
"I know you will."
He kissed my cheek. "Be good while I’m gone."
The soft press of his lips left a faint trace of warmth that lingered even after he pulled away.
I snorted. "You say that like I’m a golden retriever."
"You do get into trouble when left alone."
"I do not."
He laughed, God, I was going to miss that laugh, the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes and cracked open his cold, composed exterior for just a moment.
The sound was low and genuine, the kind that always managed to undo me a little, and I filed the memory of it away carefully, as if I might need to replay it later when the apartment got too quiet.
"...Go." I nudged him toward the door, my hand flat against his chest, pushing with much less force than it seemed. The steady beat of his heart under my palm felt almost defiantly alive. "If you don’t leave now, your driver is going to think I’m holding you hostage."
Harris, pretending not to hear any of this, was staring intently at the opposite wall, looking like a man who’d seen far too many private moments to even blink at this one.
His posture remained perfectly professional, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was fighting very hard not to react.
Damien squeezed my hand one last time. "I’ll see you soon."
His fingers lingered against mine for a second longer than necessary, the pressure firm and reassuring.
Then... he was gone.
The door clicked shut. Silence, real silence. Not the comfortable or awkward kind. Just... empty, the apartment settling around me, lacking its usual warmth. The soft mechanical sound of the lock engaging felt louder than it should have, final in a way that made the air itself seem thinner.
I stood there for a minute before my phone buzzed. The sudden vibration against the counter made me jump slightly, the small rectangle of light cutting through the quiet.
Damien😈: Miss you already.
I stared at the screen. The message was so characteristically him—short, direct, and somehow still able to land right in the center of whatever soft, ridiculous feeling I’d been trying to ignore.
"...You literally left thirty seconds ago." I said it out loud to no one, my voice sounding strange in the empty space. The words bounced softly off the walls and disappeared, leaving the silence somehow even more noticeable afterward.
Despite myself... I laughed quietly, the sound swallowed up by the too-big silence surrounding me. The apartment still felt overwhelmingly large.
The usual background noises, his footsteps, the soft clink of a mug being set down, the occasional quiet hum of him thinking out loud...were all missing, and the absence of them made every familiar object feel slightly out of place.
His side of the room was perfectly organized, books stacked on the desk with spines aligned in a way that felt almost unsettling.
His black hoodie still hung over the back of his chair, exactly where he’d tossed it that morning without a second glance. Everything was in its place except... him. The empty chair seemed to stare back at me, waiting for a weight that wouldn’t return for two full nights.
I sat on the edge of our bed, absentmindedly tracing the wrinkles in the comforter where he had been sitting while packing, the fabric still faintly warm...or maybe I just imagined it. My fingertips followed the faint impression left behind, as if the simple act of touching the same place might somehow keep a piece of him here a little longer.
"It’s only two nights," I muttered to myself, the words doing little to convince the knot lodged behind my sternum. The quiet of the room seemed to lean in and listen, unimpressed by my attempt at logic.
Two nights. Forty-eight hours. I could make it through that. ...Probably.
I just hoped that whatever awaited Damien at the Lockwood estate would let him come back to me.
Because, somehow... it already felt like something important was about to change. The thought settled heavily in the stillness, and for the first time since he’d left, the apartment felt less like home and more like a place simply waiting for him to return.
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