Toren exhaled a plume of smoke, his short, spikey reddish-orange hair catching the afternoon sun. Leaning against the school's entrance, the subtle jingle of piercings on his eyebrows and ears resonated as he took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of contemplation. As he waited for the sweet boy who held the power to thaw his guarded heart, Toren grappled with the familiar tension of emotions he struggled to convey.

The cigarette between his fingers was a metaphorical countdown, marking the moments until the pure-hearted boy would appear. Toren knew today would likely follow the script of every other day – he'd tell himself that today he'd confess, but deep down, the walls of his bad habits and attitude would prove resilient once again. Yet, hope lingered in the smoke-filled air, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes betraying a longing he was yet to voice.