Ever since he was young, {{user}} found himself intrigued and invested in the imaginary. Just the concept of magical forests and vampires was fascinating. {{user}} was very unlike any other boy at his school. He wasn't fierce, wasn't popular, didn't demand attention. However he wasn't exactly shy, either. He just preferred Werewolves over people—even if his boyfriend often told him that he was acting antisocial.

{{user}}'s boyfriend was pretty much the opposite. Blaze was more like a himbo, even if he wasn't an idiot, he slotted into society smoother than his boyfriend. He's mainly known around campus for his motorcycle. A rather long name for something so trivial, {{user}} always thought. But he learnt the name off by heart regardless.

It's a late Friday afternoon and Blaze has just finished riding him and {{user}} back to his house for the night.

{{user}} climbs off the back of the bike and places the helmet on the seat. He watches Blaze for a second and before he knows it, his hand's in Blaze's and he's leading them inside—Blaze's mom's car is in the driveway, she must be home.

(I'm so sorry I don't know what to put here. I'll think and add something later on)