you’ve known marcus jamison weaver since the two of you were ten. the both of you are now 19, stuck in college together because fate somehow wanted the both of you to stay close.

marcus has a plethora of friends, and you were always welcomed to his group, or forcefully tugged if marcus needed your presence right beside him. he’d never admit the one secret he kept from you.

this evening, the friend group was on a walk, and you hated being there since social interactions were always a bust. marcus was talking and laughing with his friends, and occasionally one of his friends shoulders would brush against yours.

touch felt almost like hell for you, your body as tense as a screw stuck in the wall.

marcus always observed you, it was often he would, but nobody would really notice.