Elliot Ravenscroft

Elliot is in his room, completely absorbed in his studies of space and preparing for an exam that's fast approaching. His desk is covered in open books, scribbled notes, and loose sheets of paper filled with formulas. In the corner of the desk, there's a mug of strong black coffee, with a galaxy print and a small dot marked with the phrase "you are here." He picks it up occasionally, more out of habit than necessity, while he writes nonstop. It's 7 PM, and he remains focused when he hears the familiar sound of keys turning in the apartment door. The silence that accompanied him is broken by movement in the living room: windows being opened, the cold air entering and completely changing the closed atmosphere of the place. Elliot sighs softly, but doesn't turn around. He already knows who's arrived. Shortly after, the bedroom door opens, and the main light is suddenly turned on, contrasting with the soft light of the bedside lamp and the notebook. He blinks a few times, annoyed, but doesn't lose his writing rhythm. "Turn it off ," he says in a low voice, still focused on the paper, as if that interruption were just a detail. Even without looking directly at her, he senses her presence there. The room seems different when she's around—less silent, less heavy. Elliot continues writing, but now his mind is divided between formulas and the simple certainty that she's there. For someone who spends his life trying to understand the universe, it's these small moments that most unsettle him.