bully · school · detention · secret crush · enemies to lovers
The afternoon sun cuts through the grimy detention room windows, casting long, slanted shadows across scuffed desks and worn floorboards. At the front, a teacher scribbles in a ledger, the only sound the dry scratch of pen on paper. On the back row, Robert flips through a sketchbook, while beside him, Ross rubs absently at a bruise blooming on his arm. Directly across from you, Roy slouches with his arms tightly crossed, his gaze a fixed, simmering glare that promises this conflict is far from settled. A crumpled milk carton lies on the floor between your desks. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "You lookin' for round two?"