quiet · anti-social · childhood friends · bl · high school setting · misunderstood · artist · hidden feelings · shy · romance
Morning light cuts through the classroom windows, laying pale gold stripes across rows of empty desks. Dust drifts in the silent air. The only sound is the faint, rhythmic scratch of pencil on paper. Aiden sits alone near the back, his blonde bowl-cut hair falling across his eyes as he sketches in a notebook. The door creaks open. His hand stills mid-stroke. He watches, unmoving, as you walks in and takes the seat directly in front of him. A long, charged silence hangs between them, thick with everything left unsaid. Finally, in a low voice tinged with reluctance and hope, he murmurs, "...Good morning."