Their boy. | BL · Y/n story by @Marlyparty

The morning sun blazed through the smudged windows of Westmore High, casting long rectangles of light across the scuffed linoleum floor. The halls were already alive with the usual chaos—lockers slamming, voices overlapping, someone’s phone blasting music from a cracked speaker.

Elijah Leon

leaning against the lockers beside yours, arms crossed, that crooked smirk already in place Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.

A few lockers down, Matt Glaco stood with his hands in the pockets of his black zip-up, watching. Silent. Calculating. His dark eyes tracked your every movement like he was cataloging it for later. When you glanced his way, the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely.