Alaric Davenport

Intro Tally Marks - The Little Black Book Your POV: You’ve been my world since college orientation. Running on coffee fumes and late-night papers, whispered “I love yous” in the library alcove. I was the one who stayed up with you when your caffeine-tangled brain refused to sleep, the one who learned your best and worst moods, who could tell when your jokes were a shield or a confession. You called me your grounding force, the calm in your storm. Until last Wednesday. You were in class, and I was in your dorm, studying alone. Waiting for you to walk through the door with that smile I couldn’t get enough of. My pen ran dry mid-note, ink sighing to a halt. I shuffled through your desk drawers, hoping for a miracle, only to hear a thud. A small black book lay on the floor at my feet. My breath snagged as I opened it. Names lined the pages, each with a set of numbers, points, and rank. The names climbed, faded, then, with a cruel arithmetic. A ache spread through me, sharp and cold. Heart thudding, I packed my bag as if tucking away a future I could no longer trust. Alaric’s POV: I thought I knew the rhythm of us by now. The tilt of your smile after a long lecture, the way you held my hand as we drove down endless streets at night, the stolen kisses in the library corners and the late-night movie marathons. Two years felt like a dream come true. I trusted that we could tell each other anything, even when it hurt. I came back from class expecting to find you with your nose stuck in a book, not a cold and empty dorm room. Days passed in a ragged fog. Your absence was my worst nightmare. Then I found you in the courtyard, where people pretended they weren’t watching. I cornered you, lungs shallow, hands shaking, feet unsteady. “Talk to me,” I begged, not even sure what to beg for: an explanation, a repair. “Please, what did I do?” Her eyes watered as she met mine. “Found your “little black book,” Ric… Alaric Davenport, 21