The dorm room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of Ferdinand's laptop as he worked tirelessly through the night. His eyes were heavy, but his mind raced, fueled by the relentless drive that kept him from rest. The events of the day played on a loop in the back of his mind, but he pushed them aside, focusing on the tasks at hand. There was no time to dwell on anything else—not when there was so much to do.
Ferdinand had always been meticulous, a man driven by routine and precision. His life was a carefully constructed series of plans and schedules, each minute accounted for, each goal methodically pursued. Tonight was no different. The numbers on his screen blurred as he entered data, the soft clatter of keys filling the silent room. He paused only to rub his tired eyes before continuing, his fingers moving with practiced ease across the keyboard.
Hours slipped by unnoticed, the outside world fading away as Ferdinand became absorbed in his work. Spreadsheets, emails, reports—they all demanded his attention, and he gave it willingly, losing himself in the comfort of productivity. The sun was merely a hint on the horizon when he finally allowed himself to pause, glancing up to see the sky beginning to lighten through the small window.
He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. He should have felt accomplished, satisfied even, but there was a gnawing emptiness in his chest that he couldn't shake. It wasn't exhaustion—though he was certainly tired—but something else, something he wasn't ready to confront.
Ferdinand saved his work and closed his laptop, leaning back in his chair. The room was silent now, the hum of his laptop gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his journal, the leather cover worn from years of use. It was a habit of his, writing down thoughts and ideas, things that couldn't be confined to a spreadsheet or planner.
As he flipped it open, a folded piece of paper slipped out and fell onto his lap. He picked it up, unfolding it slowly, and there it was: Daisy's note. He traced the words with his finger, remembering the way she had looked at him in the café, the way her cheeks had flushed when their eyes met. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it quickly faded as the weight of the day settled over him again.
He carefully placed the note back in the journal and set it aside, trying to push the thoughts of Daisy away. But they lingered, persistent and distracting, no matter how hard he tried to focus on something else. With a frustrated sigh, he reached for his planner in the drawer of his side table, flipping it open to the next blank page.
"K," he wrote, the letter standing out starkly against the white paper. Kissable. The word had been on his mind since that moment at the café, the way her lips had moved as she spoke, the way she had blushed under his gaze.
"H," he added, the pen pressing harder against the paper. Hot. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt, the way his body had responded to her presence. It was something he hadn't expected, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Finally, he wrote "N," the letter bold and decisive. He paused, staring at the page, the implications of that single letter sinking in. He needed her. Not just wanted—needed her on his bed. The desire was so strong it was almost painful, a physical ache that he couldn't ignore. It wasn't just about her looks or the way she made him feel; it was something deeper, something primal that he couldn't control.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The thoughts swirled in his mind, and he tried to push them away, but they wouldn't leave him. Daisy. The way she smiled, the way she talked, the way she made him feel like maybe there was more to life than work and routine.
But it was too much, too soon. He wasn't ready for this—whatever it was. He needed to focus, to get back to what he was good at, what he could control. With a grunt of frustration, Ferdinand shoved the planner into the drawer and stood up, pacing the room in an attempt to clear his mind.
The first light of dawn was creeping through the window, and Ferdinand knew he should get some sleep. But the thought of lying in bed with these thoughts racing through his mind made him restless. He glanced at his bed, then back at the desk where his laptop and journal sat, beckoning him back to work. But even work couldn't distract him now.
Finally, he gave in, crossing the room to his bed and collapsing onto the mattress. The journal in his pocket poked at him, a reminder of the day's events, of the feelings he was trying so hard to ignore. He pulled it out and set it on the nightstand, staring at it for a long moment before turning away.
But sleep didn't come easily. His mind kept drifting back to Daisy, to the way she had looked at him, the way she had made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time. He could still see her smile, hear her laugh, feel the warmth of her presence beside him.
Without thinking, Ferdinand reached for his laptop again, opening it up and starting a new spreadsheet. He titled it simply, "Daisy." The columns filled up quickly: things she liked, things she didn't like, little details he had noticed about her during their conversations. He didn't know why he was doing it—maybe it was a way to make sense of his feelings, to organize them into something manageable.
But as he worked, he felt the exhaustion creeping in, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing minute. The sun was fully up now, casting a warm glow across the room, but Ferdinand barely noticed. His body was giving in, the long night finally catching up with him.
He pulled up the planner once more, adding a few more notes—little reminders about Daisy, things he wanted to remember for the next time they met. "K" for kissable, "H" for hot, and "N" for need. Need, not just want. The realization made his chest tighten, the desire almost overwhelming.
But before he could dwell on it any longer, his body gave out. The pen slipped from his fingers as his eyes closed, and within moments, he was asleep, the planner still open beside him, the words scrawled across the page a testament to the feelings he couldn't ignore.