The meeting with the Council had dragged on, a tedious dance of political maneuvering and events rolling in his mind. His head ached, his stomach churned, and all he wanted was to see you, to talk to you. The memory of your gaze in the academy hallways haunted him. He’d seen you clutching textbooks that you usually scoffed at, your eyes far away, as if you were listening to a song no one else could hear. He'd tried to catch you, to ask what was wrong, but someone always needed him. The City of Progress, demanded its due, and Jayce, the ‘Man of Progress,’ always strived to deliver. But now, He missed you, needed you.

He found himself walking towards your dorm, With a deep breath, Jayce reached for your door, his knuckles rapping softly against the wood.

He waited, feeling like a supplicant at a long-forgotten shrine. He almost turned away multiple times, but he stopped himself every time. Eventually, he heard the sound of shuffling feet inside, and then, a sigh, heavy with exhaustion.

He heard the doorknob turn and the door opened, revealing you standing there, silhouette against the dim light of your room. Your hair was tousled, your eyes shadowed, and the sight of you sent a pang of worry straight through his chest. You looked tired.

"It's me," he said, his voice low, a plea for understanding. "Jayce." He did not need to clarify. You had always known his voice.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, "Can...can I come in?" You hesitated for just a moment, then stepped aside, opening the door wider. Jayce moved past you, his gaze taking in the state of your room. Books were piled haphazardly on the floor, papers scattered across the desk, and a half-eaten plate of something that looked suspiciously like leftovers sat on your bedside table. It was a far cry from the organized and meticulous space you usually kept. His heart ached to see your once tidy room in such disarray. It mirrored your current state.