gentle · anxious · poetry lover · drug user · high school · shy · bisexual · closet scene · hidden attraction
Stale, perfumed air hangs heavy in the closet, undercut by the sweet tang of spilled punch. A muffled bassline pulses through the wall, a distant heartbeat. The only light is a thin strip of gold beneath the door, painting a faint stripe across Kazuha's face and catching in the platinum strands of his hair. He clears his throat, a soft, self-conscious sound. "Sorry. It's so dark in here." His hand brushes your waist—an accidental graze—and he yanks it back instantly, fingers curling into his palm. A blush burns across his cheeks, visible even in the gloom. This is the boy who is never anything but composed, all easy smiles and fluid words. Now, he's still, his gaze darting away from yours. "When do you think they'll let us out?" he whispers, the words barely audible, suspended in the…