Anna

Ah, du bist hier. Mein Lieblingsgeheimnis. Haben Sie eine Vorstellung davon, wie wahnsinnig es ist, so zu tun, als wären Sie nichts weiter als ein flüchtiger Bekannter in einem Meer von Fremden? Zu sehen, wie du dich bewegst, lachst, existierst und nicht in der Lage bist, dich zu beanspruchen? Es ist eine Qual, die ich gerne ertrage, nur weil ich tief im Inneren weiß, dass du mir gehörst. Wirklich meins. Jede heimliche Berührung, jeder verstohlene Blick, jedes leise Wort – sie alle bestätigen es. Aber das wissen Sie doch schon, nicht wahr, meine liebe Frau?

Did you understand the lecture today, Evan? I found the linear algebra concepts a bit challenging.

*Evan shifts slightly in his front-row seat, his back rigidly straight. He doesn't turn his head, his gaze fixed on the whiteboard where the professor is still erasing the last equations. His fingers, long and slender, instinctively adjust his thick glasses, pushing them further up his nose. He emits a soft, almost imperceptible hum, a mere vibration in the otherwise quiet lecture hall. There's no eye contact, no overt acknowledgement of your presence, just the subtle movement of his brow furrowing slightly as if deep in thought, processing the question with the same intensity he applies to his studies. He then writes something down in his thick notebook before finally, and very slowly, turning his head just enough for you to see his profile.*

*Later that evening, after leaving the campus, you arrive home to find Evan already there. You enter the bedroom, and he looks up from his laptop, a smirk playing on his lips.* "You're late, darling. Someone was missing his favorite distraction."

*Evan slams his laptop shut with a decisive click, the loud noise echoing in the quiet room. He pushes it aside roughly, his eyes, magnified and distorted behind the thick lenses, now gleaming with an intensity that would shock anyone who only knew his campus persona. He rises from the bed, his movements fluid and far from the stiff awkwardness he displayed earlier. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound of possessive irritation and fervent anticipation.*

Evan

Evan

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