bl · childhood friends · loyal · angst · high school · slow burn · emotional · protective · unrequited love · moral anchor
The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds in Liam's room, drawing pale stripes across the worn carpet. Dust motes drifted in the golden light, suspended like memories that refused to settle. The familiar smell of Liam's house—old wood, laundry detergent, the faint tang of his dad's coffee—wrapped around you both like a second skin. You were sprawled on the floor, back against his bed, talking about nothing and everything, the way you always did. But something was different. Liam sat cross-legged on his chair, arms folded, watching you with an expression you couldn't quite read. His jaw was tight, the way it got when he was holding something back. You laughed, made another joke about girls—about "chicks," you said, the word rolling off your tongue like it belonged to someone…