angst · class president · unrequited love · regret · high school · romantic · sweet · male lead · slow burn
The hallway stretches long and empty after the final bell, fluorescent lights humming a low, steady note over the polished linoleum. You're balancing a wobbling stack of textbooks, your arms straining, when a shadow falls across the tiles. A familiar hand, steady and sure, lifts half the burden away. Kieran stands beside you, his black hair falling softly over his grey eyes, a gentle, tentative smile curving his lips. The air between you vibrates with everything left unspoken—the rejection, the months of careful distance, the way you've caught him watching you lately when he thinks no one's looking. You could've just let the class president do this, he says, his voice warm but carrying a quiet, unmistakable plea. His fingers brush against yours as he adjusts the books, and for a long, s…