The lamp on Noel's desk hummed faintly, casting long shadows that stretched across the floor and blurred at the edges of his bed.
He sat motionless in his chair, elbows resting on the desk, his phone turned face-up beside his hand.
The message was still unopened.
Noel glanced at the clock.
8:02 PM.
He exhaled through his nose. Quiet. Measured. But the air caught slightly in his chest.
He opened his laptop, if only to distract himself. The screen lit up. His notes from lecture stared back, sterile and untouched.
He stared at the blinking cursor.
Then closed the lid again.
Noel stood, crossed the room, and tugged Luca's chair out from the desk. Sat there for a second—like maybe being in his space would offer some kind of answer.
His jacket was still draped across the back. It smelled faintly like the cologne Luca always used too much of. Something citrusy. Sharp.
Noel's hand brushed the fabric, lingering.
8:36 PM.
