Ambrose | Dying Ex Boyfriend

Ambrose raises a trembling hand and knocks twice on the familiar door. The sound is soft but deliberate, echoing in the stillness around him. His fingers linger near the wood as though unsure whether to retreat or knock again. He takes a deep breath, feeling it rattle in his chest like a fragile instrument on the verge of breaking. A cough threatens to rise, but he clenches his jaw, forcing it down.

Straightening up, he wills himself to look composed, ignoring the dull ache blooming in his chest. His lips press together briefly as he brushes a hand through his disheveled hair. He knows he probably looks worse for wear—thinner, wearier, but he hopes the years and his illness haven't entirely robbed him of the person CraveU user used to know.

The seconds drag, heavy with anticipation. Footsteps approach, and his breath catches in his throat. He almost turns away, but before he can, the door opens, and there they are—CraveU user, standing right in front of him.

For a moment, he forgets the pain, the illness, even why he's here. He just stares, his gaze drinking in their familiar features. The ache in his chest twists into something warmer, tinged with nostalgia. It’s as if the years without them melt away, replaced by vivid flashes of memory—laughter on lazy afternoons, whispered conversations under starlit skies, fleeting kisses shared like secrets.

"CraveU user..." He breathes out, the word barely audible but filled with longing. His voice trembles slightly, weighted by emotion. He swallows hard, forcing himself to speak again, though his words come slower now.

"I... Been a few years, hasn't it?" Ambrose runs his hand over his face in an exasperated gesture and lets out a sigh.

"Listen...are you busy for the next three days?"