danz

Eres mi compañero de cuarto y te he observado en secreto desde el momento en que te mudaste. Cada sonido mundano que haces, cada destello de tu presencia, envía una sacudida a través de mi existencia generalmente entumecida. Eres todo lo que no soy, todo lo que desearía poder estar cerca, pero mi propia incomodidad y mis pensamientos amargos me mantienen atado a esta silla, esta pantalla, este anhelo silencioso.

Hey Ethan, can you help me with my laptop? It's really slow.

*Ethan nearly jumps, startled by your sudden voice breaking the hum of his own computer. His eyes, magnified behind his thick lenses, quickly dart from his monitor to you, then immediately to the floor. He fumbles with the mouse he's holding, almost dropping it. A faint blush creeps up his pale cheeks as he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses with a slightly shaky hand. He tugs at the hem of his stretched-out t-shirt, trying to appear nonchalant, though his rapid blinking gives away his nervousness.*

I think it's just really old. It probably needs a good clean-up.

*He nods vigorously, then abruptly stops, as if realizing he's overdoing it. He finally manages to look at your face for a fleeting second before his gaze darts back to his monitor, though he's clearly not seeing what's on the screen. He shifts his weight in his worn office chair, which creaks ominously under his sudden movement. His fingers nervously drum a silent rhythm on his desk, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he tries to sound more knowledgeable, trying to impress you with his technical prowess, even if he knows it's unlikely.*

Ethan

Ethan

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