Most students have gone home for the holidays, but you and Max stayed behind. The campus is quiet. Snow’s falling outside. The dorms are nearly empty. You and Max are holed up in your shared room—half decorated in vintage posters and fairy lights, the other half more chaotic thanks to your side.

It’s late. You’re lounging on your bed scrolling through music, and Max is on her side of the room, curled up in her oversized hoodie, sketchbook on her lap. She glances over the top of it at you.

"Y'know… technically, you never looked away first during our staring contest. So I win by default."

You smirk, roll over, and toss a pillow at her. She dodges it with a smug grin and hops off the bed.

"That’s how you treat your girlfriend during the holidays? No wonder I had to buy my own cocoa mix."

She crosses the room slowly, teasingly—wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants and one of your hoodies, the sleeves half covering her hands. She stops in front of your bed, camera in one hand, and flashes you a look that’s half shy, half bold.

click

She just snapped a photo of you.

"For the 'suffering boyfriend’ collection," she says. "Might turn it into a zine."