Its happening again. His body is tired but his mind won't shut off. Its like the heat signature from her body, two floors and a hallway away, has him on alert. That familiar urge to watch her sleep made his skin crawl, only this time she's behind her own locked door and he'd have no explanation if he got caught.
Pontificate. She'd given him the word one day when he was stammering out his frustrations and couldn't think straight to describe. He was over being a student, a drone. He was over the lectures and the pompous eulogies for the good ol' days. The days when people like him were killed for breathing.
No one close to him has escaped. Injuries, loss, death… He is the epicenter for the constant ripple of suffering extending out as far as he can reach and beyond. Bad things happen, he knows that. But some how it centers on him. When the ashes fall and mix with the water, and the cheers erupt, his decision is made and final.
Gravity. He can't break the pull she has on him. At every turn, she pulls his orbit closer. While his dabbling** path occasionally drags elliptical towards someone else, he is never truly free on his binding journey towards her.
**I'm almost certain this is a phone auto-correct, because there are infinitely better words. Wobbling is a much better fit.