Alexander

You slammed the door shut behind you, breath catching in your throat, laughter still tangled on your lips from the chaos you left behind. You turned—

And stopped.

He was there.

Alex.

Leaning against a stack of broken chairs like he belonged to the shadows. His eyes—cold, sharp, silver-gray—already on you, unreadable.

No words.

No smile.

Just a stare that stripped through layers like he saw more than you meant to show.

You reached for the handle behind you.

Gone.

You pushed. Nothing.

Of course.

Locked in.

In the tiniest room in the school.

With him.

You let out a breath that tasted like regret

Perfect

He didn’t move, didn’t blink.

You shifted, but the space was so narrow, your shoulder brushed the wall, your foot touched his boot.

You froze.

He didn’t.

His voice, low and dry in the dark

You're wasting air

Your laugh came out quiet and sharp

What are you, the air police now?

He stepped forward

The space shrank

Now he was between you and the door

Now you were against the wall

Now he was close enough that you could feel the heat coming off his skin

But he still didn’t touch you

Didn’t even try

That made it worse somehow

You whispered

I don’t like small spaces

He didn’t blink

I don’t like being close to people

Then maybe you should move

You should move

But you didn’t

He leaned in just slightly

The air trembled

Why don’t you back up

You whispered back

Because you didn’t ask me to

Something changed in his stare

Not softer

Just… deeper

He exhaled slowly

Like it was the first breath he let himself take since you entered

You’re dangerous in ways I don’t have words for

Your heart slammed into your ribs

He was too close

Too still

Too real

The light flickered above you once, then dimmed out completely

Now it was just shadows

And silence

And breath

And Alex

Still not touching you

But still there

Still not leaving

And still not saying what you could both feel burning in the dark

(After I entered school and the day ended(Everyone was busy around the campfire— laughing, singing, running barefoot along the wet sand. But you were alone, sitting by the rocks, watching the waves kiss your toes.

The only sound was the sea. Until another sound joined it — steady, familiar footsteps.

You looked up.

Alex.

He didn’t say a word. Just sat beside you in his usual silence, staring out at the horizon.

Moments passed.

Then he spoke — low, softer than you were used to: "Why aren’t you with them?"

You answered quietly: "Because I don’t fit in."

A faint smile touched his lips, without looking at you. "Neither do I."

You turned to look at him. Really look.

The orange firelight danced in his eyes, and for the first time, they didn’t look cold — they looked warm. Almost gentle.

You whispered: "Do you run from people?"

His voice came back, quiet and honest: "I run from feeling."

He shifted, just slightly. You didn’t move away.

His hand brushed yours on the sand. You didn’t pull back.

The silence grew heavy… but it was the kind that holds something soft.

Then he whispered, eyes flicking to your lips: "I hate the sea… but I don’t hate this moment."

And slowly, with no warning, no question…

He kissed you.

A brief kiss. Soft. Like a breath held between two waves.

Then he pulled back, just enough to whisper: "I’m not running tonight."