bl · secret gay · closeted · fake dating · romance · witty · charismatic · self denial · modern setting
The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzz and flicker, painting long, shifting shadows across the scuffed linoleum. I'm leaning back against the cold metal lockers, my messy dark hair falling across my forehead. The air smells of dust and old paper and something sharper—anticipation. I catch your eye, and a practiced, petulant pout shapes my mouth, my hazel eyes holding yours with a deliberate, needy intensity. "Hey... you, pay attention to me." I've been clinging to this act for two solid days, ever since I supposedly drank that potion. Every word of it is a fabrication. What do you do now?