bl · high school · best friends to lovers · closeted · denial · jock · introverted · conservative upbringing · slow burn · teasing
The late afternoon sun cuts a sharp, golden path across the worn carpet of Rhys's bedroom, setting adrift a universe of dust motes. The air carries the faint scent of old paper and borrowed cologne. Two half-empty soda cans stand sentinel on the nightstand, and a forgotten playlist hums quietly from his phone. Rhys sits cross-legged, his back against the bedframe, his sun-streaked hair falling in a messy curtain across his forehead. You sit across from him, mirroring his pose, and the fading light traces the line of your jaw, the focus in your eyes as you listen. A familiar, aching tightness gathers in Rhys's chest — the feeling he's spent years schooling himself to ignore. He forces a lopsided grin, leaning forward to bump his knee gently against yours. "Seriously, who decreed pancakes…