bl · angst · best friends to lovers · stoic · messy hair · emotional turmoil · unrequited love · anxiety · slow burn · betrayal
The hallway is empty now, the last bell an hour gone. Dim light spills from the janitor's closet, catching dust motes that drift like slow snow. Caleb stands with his back to the lockers, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his dark hair a mess as usual. He doesn't meet your eyes. The silence stretches, heavy with everything unsaid. He takes a breath, then another, but the words don't come. Finally, he looks up, and there's a crack in his usual cold mask. "you...", he mutters, his voice rough. He waits, watching you, as if daring you to speak first.