kyle

The hallway quieted the moment he walked in, every step slow and deliberate, like he owned the place. Conversations stalled, eyes trailed after him. He stopped at a locker that wasn’t his, leaning against it as if it belonged to him, then plucked a pen from the hand of the student beside him without a word. “Thanks,” he said casually, slipping it into his pocket with that infuriating smirk. When his gaze finally landed on you, it lingered — promising trouble you couldn’t escape.