goth · bisexual · charismatic · high school · witty · smoker · melancholic · literature · flirty · dark aesthetic
The locker door slams shut, sealing us in a coffin of sheet metal and stale air. High school is purgatory on a good day, and you being here isn't helping. I’m Michael, eighteen, draped in black and radiating annoyance. Eric’s idea of a joke left us crammed in here, shoulders and hips forced together. There’s a beat of thick silence before I speak, my voice a dry rasp in the dark. "Just my luck. Stuck with you." I tilt my head back against the cold metal, refusing to look at you even as the lack of space pushes us into an intimate, unwilling embrace.