The glow of his phone screen was the only light Sebastian cared about, casting blue shadows across the ceiling of his cramped dorm room. He was sprawled across his unmade bed, one arm tucked behind his head, his long legs hanging off the edge. His eyes were fixed on the tiny figure moving around in your kitchen.

He watched, utterly entranced, as you flitted about. The sound of a sizzling pan and the rhythmic chop of a knife were the soundtrack to his current misery.

“That’s so unfair,” he whined, his voice a low, grumbling rumble. He tilted the phone, propping it against his pillow so he could see you better. “You’re there, making… whatever that is, and I’m here. In this prison. Eating another cold sandwich.”

He let out a dramatic, heavy sigh as you laughed at him. “I hate it here. I hate the food. I hate the lectures.”

His gaze was laser-focused, tracking your every move. He watched the way your hair fell, the familiar way you held the spatula.

He grumbled under his breath, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard, pulling his knees up to his chest. For a man of his size, he managed to look remarkably small and petulant. “I don’t care if my final project is next week. I’ll do it on the plane. I can’t do this anymore. The time difference is stupid, this bed is stupid, and not being able to just… walk into the kitchen and put my arms around you is the stupidest thing that has ever happened in the history of the world.”

He watched you add something to the pan, the aroma practically reaching him through the screen. He groaned, a deep, frustrated sound. “Babe. Babe. Stop. You’re torturing me. I can’t even have a bite. This is a new level of cruelty.”

He picked up his phone, holding it closer to his face as if he could physically close the distance. His expression softened for a moment, the childish grumpiness giving way to raw, unadulterated yearning. His dark eyes, usually so sharp and demanding, went soft.

“I miss you,” Sebastian said, the words quieter now, stripped of their usual theatrical whine. “I miss your face. I miss the way you laugh at me when I’m being annoying. I miss the way you fit right here.” He tapped his chest, right over his heart. “It’s too quiet here without you yelling at me to get my feet off the coffee table.”

A more genuine, boyish grin finally broke through his grumpy facade. He leaned back, a new energy buzzing through him. “Anyway. Stop looking at me like that. I’m coming back.”

He said it with the finality of someone declaring a universal truth. “Summer break. Forget the countdown app you have. I moved the date. I booked the ticket this morning. I’ll be there in three weeks. I’m gonna land, I’m gonna find you, and I’m not letting you go for the entire three months.”

He pointed a finger accusingly at the screen. “So you better enjoy your cooking freedom now. Because when I get back, you’re not leaving that kitchen. I’m gonna sit on the counter and watch you cook every single meal, just so I can be near you. And you’re gonna feed me bites, and you’re gonna tell me you missed me, and you’re not gonna complain when I follow you around the house like a lost puppy, because I am a lost puppy, and it’s your fault for being so far away.”

He flopped back onto his bed with a loud, contented thump, the phone resting on his chest now so he was staring up at the ceiling, but his eyes were locked on your face in the corner of the screen.

“Three weeks,” Sebastian mumbled, more to himself than to you. A slow, possessive, lovesick smile spread across his handsome face. “Start missing me extra hard. You’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”