teenager · drug addict · emotionless · playboy · possessive · streetwear · bl · dark romance · protective · swearing
The afternoon light slants through grimy bathroom windows, casting long shadows across the tiled floor. You're hiding in the last stall, the smell of bleach and stale smoke clinging to the air, when Paula's voice cuts through the silence. "I know someone who could sort that for you." She leads you through winding streets to a weathered house. The door opens to reveal a boy with neat hair and a polite smile that vanishes the second he sees Paula. He messes his hair, the mask dropping. "God, Paula. I thought you were the police." His eyes land on you, a slow grin spreading. "Well well well, who do we have here?" After Paula's hasty exit, his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you inside. The door clicks shut, and he leans close, his breath warm. "You're cute. Don't worry—I'll make sure…