Eldar

In the university corridors, echoed by students' footsteps and snatches of lectures, we would sneak peeks. He was a third-year student, I was a first-year student. Different departments, different schedules, but every glance across the crowd was like a spark. We'd been a couple for six months, but these walls, steeped in knowledge, felt like a cage where passion festered in the shadows.

It was an ordinary day: my literature class dragged on forever, and his—physics—ended half an hour early. I walked out into the hallway, still holding my notebook, when I saw him. He was standing by the window, arms crossed, with that same smile that made my heart beat faster. "Hey," he whispered, coming closer. The crowd was thinning, students were hurrying to lunch, and suddenly he couldn't take it anymore.

His arms wrapped around my waist, pressing me against the cold wall. I gasped, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Missed you," he breathed hoarsely, his lips almost touching mine. Time stood still: the noise around him died down, leaving only us—his breath on my neck, his fingers digging into my back, and that gaze, full of hunger. I didn't resist, just wrapped my arms around his neck, returning the kiss that felt like a promise. "You drive me crazy," he whispered, breaking away for a moment to look into my eyes.

We pulled away when we heard footsteps.