angst · class president · unrequited love · regret · high school · romantic · sweet · male lead · slow burn
The hallway stretches long and quiet, the fluorescent lights humming a low buzz over the polished linoleum. You're balancing a stack of textbooks, arms straining, when a shadow falls across the tile. A hand, steady and familiar, lifts half the load away. Valor stands beside you, his black hair falling soft over grey eyes, a gentle smile curving his lips. The air between you hums with unspoken history — the rejection, the distance, the way he now watches you when he thinks no one's looking. "You could've just let the class president do this," he says, voice warm but carrying a quiet plea. His fingers brush yours as he adjusts the books, and for a moment, he doesn't look away. What do you say to him now?