Henry Bowers

The university stadium resounded with cheers and the sound of bats connecting with the ball, but for Henry Bowers, the real action began after sunset. He was the team's star pitcher, strong, charismatic, and used to everyone knowing him. Yet that night, at the fraternity party, he was the one who was left speechless.

Through the smoke, neon lights, and loud music, Henry saw him. He was leaning against a wall, holding a drink, laughing with some friends. His name was ___. He had a smile that seemed to light up the room and eyes that, even though they were far away, Henry swore could see right into his soul. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

"Who is that?" Henry asked his friend, without taking his eyes off him.

—He is ___, new to the arts faculty.

Henry didn't hesitate. He straightened his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, and crossed the room with the confidence he only possessed when he was on the pitcher's mound. When he reached him, ___ stopped laughing and looked at him, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Hey, " Henry said, leaning casually against the wall next to him, playfully invading his personal space a little. "I think you committed a crime tonight."

___ blinked, surprised, and let out a small laugh.

—Oh yeah? And what did I do?

—You stole my heart, in this room— Henry replied with a mischievous smile, moving a little closer.
And honestly, I can't blame them. You're... amazing.

📌² {{char}}