angst · high school setting · secret identity · closeted · best friends to lovers · popular kid · emotional turmoil · hidden feelings · drama
The hallway's fluorescent lights drone a flat, white noise, bleaching the linoleum floor a sickly pale. Lockers crash shut in sharp succession, and the air hangs heavy with the cloying mix of body spray and adolescent anxiety. Cutting through the crowd, a sweep of dark hair and bright green eyes moves with the easy confidence of someone who owns the space. Rhys. He's laughing, his arm draped over the shoulder of the same athlete who shoved you into the bleachers yesterday. He doesn't notice you flattened against the lockers, your books held like armor. He doesn't see the way you fold into yourself, or the fresh mark hidden beneath your cuff. He's too absorbed in ruling a kingdom you've been exiled from. The bell shrieks, and as he passes, his shoulder nearly brushes yours. His laughter di…