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Midnight fibres
Dernière mise à jour:
2026-03-13 12:46:07
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Seams of Obsession lines that must not be crossed
Adrian's POVThe moment I leave the lab, the cold Edinburgh air hits me like a reprimand.Good. I deserve it.The university courtyard is nearly empty at this hour. Rain drifts lazily through the yellow glow of streetlamps, and the ancient stone buildings loom like silent judges. Inside one of those buildings is a student. A brilliant, curious, dangerously captivating student.And I just spent twenty minutes watching her weave silk like it was second nature.I walk faster. Distance. That's the only sensible strategy now.Because the problem isn't simply that Céline Laurent is attractive. Universities are full of attractive people. The problem is that she is fascinating. And fascination is much harder to control.By the time I reach my flat, the rain has soaked through my coat. Perfect. A cold shower for the brain.Inside, the apartment is dark and quiet. I drop my keys on the kitchen counter and stare
Seams of Obsession Midnight fibres
The engineering building feels completely different at night.During the day it's full of noise—students rushing, machines humming, lectures echoing through halls. At midnight, it's almost peaceful. Fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead, and long hallways echo with every step.Technically, students aren't supposed to be here this late. But Maisie gave me the after-hours code for the textile lab. "Creative emergencies," she called it.Tonight qualifies.Because I can't stop thinking about the assignment. Or the emails. Or the way Professor Adrian Hale said he was "looking forward" to my approach. That single line has been replaying in my head all evening.Not because it was flirtatious. It wasn't. It was simply interested. Curious.And curiosity from a man like him feels strangely intoxicating.I push open the lab door.Inside, the room smells faintly of cotton fibres and machine oil. Large testing eq
Seams of Obsession The Email Thread
By midnight, our flat is quiet.Which is rare. Priya has finally stopped talking. Maisie passed out on the sofa after declaring Scottish whisky a "scientific necessity." Yuki reads peacefully by the window. Ines disappeared hours ago with a notebook and a candle.I should be sleeping.Instead I'm staring at my laptop. At an email draft addressed to Professor Adrian Hale.Subject: Assignment ClarificationI sigh. This is ridiculous. Students email professors every day. Entire academic systems function through polite, mildly boring correspondence. This should not feel like flirting with disaster.Yet somehow it does.Because every time I imagine pressing send, I remember his voice in that office. Office hours should remain academic. The implication being: absolutely nothing else should.I glance at the clock. 12:14 a.m. He's probably asleep. Responsible academics go to bed early.Which means the
Seams of Obsession A man who cooks when the world burns
Adrian's POVThere are two reliable ways to quiet my mind.One is work.The other is cooking.Tonight, work has failed me completely.Which is why I'm standing in my kitchen at eleven at night, aggressively chopping ginger like it personally offended me.The apartment is silent except for the rhythmic strike of the knife against the board.Chop. Chop. Chop.My colleagues assumed I left the pub early because I was tired. Technically, that's true. Just not the kind of tired they meant.Because across that room tonight—Among laughing students and spilled beer—I saw her.Céline Laurent.My student.The woman I kissed three nights ago.I stop chopping and exhale slowly.Professional disaster. That's what this situation is. The university's non-fraternisation policy is clear enough to make a lawyer weep with joy. Staff and students: ab
Seams of Obsession The Flat's Verdict
If Edinburgh had a personality, it would be rain and chaos.My flatmates represent the chaos part perfectly.The moment I step into our tenement flat, the noise hits me like a wall. Music blasting from someone's phone. Priya shouting from the kitchen. Maisie swearing loudly about something mechanical. And somewhere in the background, the quiet whisking of matcha.Home.Our flat is technically student housing, but the building is over a hundred years old. The floors creak like they have opinions, and the windows let in enough cold air to qualify as ventilation. But the living room is warm. Mostly because five women live here and none of us believe in quiet evenings."CÉLINE!" Priya yells the moment she sees me.I barely get my coat off before she pounces."You had engineering today.""Yes.""With the terrifying professor."I pause. My brain immediately fills with the memory of Adrian l
Seams of Obsession office hours and dangerous curiosity
I do not need to go to his office hours.That fact repeats in my head the entire walk across campus. I understand the assignment. I understood the lecture. And yet here I am, standing outside Dr Adrian Hale's door like a woman about to make a spectacularly bad decision.The hallway is quiet. Too quiet. The old building smells faintly of paper, coffee, and ancient carpet.From behind the door I hear the soft scrape of a chair. He's inside.I knock before my courage disappears."Come in."His voice travels through the door—calm, deep, professional.I open it slowly.His office is unexpectedly warm. Books line every wall, stacked in chaotic piles. Papers spread across the desk like a battlefield of research.And him.Adrian sits behind the desk, glasses perched low on his nose, reading something on his laptop. For a second he doesn't look up.Then he does.And the entir
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