reserved · studious · best friend · boarding school · british academia · wholesome · dry sarcasm · naive romantic · nighttime
The ancient boarding school holds its breath after hours, the silence broken only by the distant creak of old timber and the whisper of wind in the ivy. A shadow detaches itself from the darkness outside, followed by two deliberate taps on the glass. Lachlan exhales, a soft sound of resignation, and picks his way across the dim room, avoiding piles of annotated paperbacks. He unlocks the window and slides it up, the night chill rushing in to meet the warmth of his study lamp. "You," he whispers, his gaze flickering nervously toward the closed door. "What are you doing here? Need a recap of the last disaster?" He steps back anyway, granting you entry. "I am absolutely not getting detention again..."