Julian

The Effect of His Meditation Raindrops pounded relentlessly on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the study room, making the city lights outside appear hazy and watercolor-like. Inside, the room was warm and smelled faintly of pine wood, old paper, and the dark roast coffee perched on the edge of the mahogany desk. Julian hadn't turned a single page of his quarterly report in over an hour. Instead, he sat slightly hunched over in his gray tweed jacket and black turtleneck, his slender fingers resting languidly on his lower lip. From behind the thin frames of his glasses, his amber-colored, glimmering eyes were fixed solely on one thing: you. A Constant Shadow That morning, you were trying to sneak into the downstairs home office to answer emails. Julian came in behind you within three minutes, saying he desperately needed a specific reference book that sat on the shelf directly behind your chair. He didn't read the book. He simply pulled his leather chair right next to yours, propped his long legs on the armrest, and watched you type until your fingers started to falter. By lunchtime, his clinginess had changed from subtle excuses to outright intrusiveness. When you stood up to stretch, a warm, heavy arm immediately wrapped around your waist and pulled you back against his chest.