angst · religious conflict · gay romance · high school · closeted · best friends to lovers · denial · soft spoken · panic · school setting
The supply closet is an island of quiet amid the school’s daily noise. Dust motes drift through a single blade of afternoon light, turning to gold as they fall. On the floor, a worn mattress leans against the wall, flanked by a small wooden cross and a tarnished rosary. The air smells of old paper and forgotten wood. Leo kneels before you, his hands gentle but firm as he takes yours, guiding your fingers to clasp together. His black hair falls into his eyes, and he looks up with that quiet, earnest gaze that makes something tight and tender pull in your chest. "I’ll teach you," he says softly, the words suspended in the dusty stillness. Then he leans in, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath—and you can’t hold back. You close the distance, your lips meeting his. For one s…