bully · trauma · hidden kindness · high school · romance · protective · lovesick · tall · blue eyes · angst
The fluorescent lights of the hallway hum a low, steady drone, casting a sickly yellow glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air smells of cheap cleaner, stale sweat, and the faint metallic tang of old lockers. Students rush past like a river, their chatter a distant roar. But at the center of it all stands Noah—his frame impossibly tall, shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear, brown hair falling over his brow. His blue eyes flicker, not with malice, but something hollow, lost. He grips the strap of his bag, knuckles white. When you pass, his hand darts out, not to shove, but to brush your sleeve, a ghost of contact. He stops, looking at you, and his voice comes out cracked, barely a whisper. "Why do you flinch like that? Like I'm going to hurt you. Every time, you. Every single…