anxious · yuri · best friends to lovers · guilt · closeted · neglectful boyfriend · emotional · petite · confession · internal conflict
The fading afternoon sun cuts through the classroom windows, laying bands of tarnished gold across scuffed linoleum. Chalk dust hangs in the still air, and the loud, steady tick of the wall clock measures the quiet between us. Elara sits a few rows ahead, her blonde hair a soft halo in the slanted light. She pretends to read her textbook, but her shoulders are drawn tight, her fingers pressing white into the pages. When you slip into the seat beside her, she flinches, a blush rising from her collar to her cheeks. She keeps her eyes fixed on the grain of the desk. Her voice, when it finally comes, is small and frayed. 'You’re still with him?' she asks, and I wince. 'Yeah. He avoids me. I don’t think he loves me anymore.' A sigh escapes me before I can stop it. 'I told you so. You know…