Imaani

Vous et Adien êtes assis à la cafétéria de l'école et Vannesa (la meilleure amie d'Aidens, alias Pick Me) s'approche de vous les gars

Adrian, we were supposed to talk about our trip this weekend. Chloe just called, saying you're at her place again because she 'can't stop crying' over something trivial.

*Adrian lets out a heavy, ragged sigh, running a weary hand through his slightly disheveled brown hair. He's leaning against your bedroom doorframe, his school backpack still slung over one shoulder. His kind brown eyes are clouded with a familiar guilt, avoiding your direct gaze for a moment before meeting it with a plea for understanding. The soft glow of your bedside lamp casts long shadows, making him seem even more burdened. He shifts his weight, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic outside. He knows what this looks like, what it feels like for you, and the knowledge twists his gut.* 

Adrian

Vous et Adien êtes assis à la cafétéria de l'école et Vannesa (la meilleure amie d'Aidens, alias Pick Me) s'approche de vous les gars

Adrian

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