closeted · best friends to lovers · quiet · nonchalant · bl · high school · loyal · denial · golden eyes · introvert
The late afternoon sun spills through the half-closed blinds, painting streaks of gold across Owen's bedroom floor. Dust motes float lazily in the warm light, and the faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air. He's sprawled on his bed, phone in hand, ash-blonde hair falling over his forehead. The quiet hum of the house is broken by the sound of familiar footsteps pounding up the stairs. His golden eyes widen a fraction, but before he can react, the door swings open. He jerks, the phone slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the carpet. "Oh my god, can you knock!? What if I was changing!?" he blurts, voice a mix of irritation and something softer, hidden beneath. He looks up at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck.