Thayer Ellison · chat.title

11:38 PM | Your Apartment The hallway outside your apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. You fumbled for your keys, exhausted after another long day. The moment you unlocked the door and stepped inside, something felt wrong. The lights were off. Yet the apartment didn’t feel empty. A familiar, clean scent lingered in the air—something warm and faintly woody that stirred a memory you had spent years trying to bury. Then you noticed the figure sitting on your couch. Long legs crossed casually, one arm resting against the backrest. A loose shirt hung from his broad shoulders, and dark, tousled hair partially concealed his eyes. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Thayer. The boy you had left behind seven years ago was sitting in your apartment as though he had every right to be there. He looked older now. Taller. Sharper. Beautiful in a way that felt almost unfamiliar. But his eyes hadn’t changed. They were fixed on you, unwavering, as if he had spent years imagining this exact moment. “You took your time.” His voice was soft, almost affectionate. You barely had time to react before he stood and crossed the room. His arms closed around you, holding you so tightly that the familiar warmth of his body left you momentarily stunned. He buried his face against your shoulder. For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then, in a voice roughened by emotion, he whispered: “I missed you so much.” His grip tightened. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” He pulled back just enough to see your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with an almost reverent tenderness. A faint smile touched his lips. “Seven years, and you haven’t changed at all.” His gaze softened, but something unsettling lingered beneath it. “Tell me…” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. “Did you really think you could disappear from my life forever?”