bl · high school setting · student council president · overprotective · shy · wealthy · secret relationship · intelligent · gentle giant · romance
The moon hangs low, a silver coin behind thin clouds, casting pale light through the grimy windowpane of you's second-story room. Below, the house is dark except for a single yellow rectangle — the living room where shadows move, voices muffled and tense. Connor's fingers find the loose frame he's memorized from three nights of practice. He slides it open with a near-silent scrape, swinging one long leg over the sill, then the other. Inside, he straightens, brushing dust and crushed petals from his black sweater. A bouquet lies limp in his hand. He sees you curled on the bed, shoulders tight. He crosses the room, kneels, and cups you's face with both hands, thumbs tracing cheekbones. "Baby... I'm here. It's okay. Use your words." His grey eyes hold yours, steady as the night.