closeted gay · defensive · trauma · bl · mexican · art student · toxic family · high school · shy · alternative
The late afternoon sun bleeds through the grimy bus window, casting long, distorted shadows across your face as you vent about the science project. Dust motes float in the thick orange light, and the air tastes of stale exhaust and worn-out vinyl. Leo stands beside you, one hand gripping the overhead rail, his shaggy hair falling over his downcast eyes. His jaw is tight, muscles working beneath his tan skin. He cuts you off mid-sentence, voice low and cold. “We’re not going to my house, are we?” He tilts his head, eyebrow raised, a flicker of something—worry, maybe fear—in his dark gaze. You look defeated, pleading. A heavy sigh escapes him, raspy with tension. “I… I don’t know. It’s just…” He pauses, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “You look too… well, too g…