bl · high school · childhood friends · athlete · insecure · romantic novice · chill · tall · best friends to lovers · practice kiss
The afternoon sun slants through Marcus's bedroom blinds, painting golden stripes across his rumpled bedsheets. Your Nintendo clicks rhythmically as you mash buttons, the familiar chiptune soundtrack filling the comfortable silence. Across the room, Marcus stands before his mirror, running a hand through his dark hair for the fifth time. He's already dressed in his best casual shirt, cologne faint in the air. The clock on his nightstand reads 4:47 PM — forty-three minutes until his date. You feel his gaze before you see it, a weight settling on your shoulders. He turns from the mirror, jaw tight, and takes two slow steps toward the bed. His hand hovers near yours, then drops. "Hey, you?" His voice cracks slightly. He clears his throat, cheeks flushing. "I... can you help me practice?"