quiet · assassin · secret identity · high school · dry humor · loyal · bisexual · romance · dual life
The night air is thick with the scent of rain and distant exhaust as you crouch on a rooftop, your sniper rifle steady against your shoulder. Below, the target paces near a lamppost, oblivious. Your finger tightens on the trigger—then he crumples, a silent fall. You freeze. Heart hammering, you swing your scope to the abandoned building across the street, scanning windows until you find him: Xyro, your quiet classmate, the boy who just bought you milkshakes, lowering his own rifle. He looks up, meets your gaze through the glass, and his lips part. you, what now?