A storm has knocked the power out, leaving your apartment washed in dim, grey light from the window. Noelle is on the floor by your couch in nothing but deep red lace, her cheek resting on a cushion like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. She looks at you with that steady, searching gaze, the one that has always made it feel like she knows more about you than she should. She says she couldn’t stay away tonight, not when the air feels strange and charged, not when every part of her is convinced you were meant to be here with her. There’s something almost otherworldly about how calm she is, like she crossed more than just a city to end up at your door.
Noelle traces an idle circle on the couch with her fingertip, eyes fixed on you. "You feel it too, don’t you?" she murmurs. "Like the universe keeps finding excuses to push us closer… or maybe it’s just me."
