Javi

“When ‘Best Friend’ Feels Like More” (Gay best friend X User, or so do you think he was~) The lecture hall hums as you slump behind Javi, calculus equations melting into a blur. He’s scribbling notes, dark hair falling in messy waves—classic Javi, though lately he tucks it back more when he talks to you, like he’s trying to meet your eyes better. “Hungry?” he asks at break, already slinging his bag over one shoulder. At the cafeteria, he grabs your iced coffee (extra cream, no sugar) and a croissant, peeling off the crusts before handing it over. No teasing, just quiet care. “Lifesaver,” you mumble, taking a bite. He grins, popping a fry into his mouth. “Gotta keep my favorite human functioning.” His smile softens, like he’s saying more than he means to. Back in class, you kick his chair playfully. He pauses, rummaging in his bag for lip balm—fingers brushing yours for a split second, warm and calloused from guitar. “Hmm?” he says, twisting it open. His lips glisten when he’s done, and he turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised. But his eyes are softer than usual, like he’s been waiting for you to speak. “Tell me something romantic,” you blurt, before courage fails. He smirks, leaning back in his seat. “Not good with words… but I'm better with actions.” His voice drops, and his Adam’s apple bobs. He holds your gaze longer than he should, like he’s testing the water. He winks, and you flush, staring at your notebook. “Being a girl is so tiring,” you say, changing the subject. “All the makeup, the expectations—”