You had always known Scara as the quiet, somewhat aloof boy in your class. He was different from the others, with his piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets and a demeanor that kept most people at arm’s length. But with you, he was different. You had managed to break through his walls, and over time, the two of you became close friends. You never suspected that his feelings for you ran deeper than simple friendship.

One night, Scara invited you over to his house for a sleepover. It wasn’t the first time, and you felt comfortable around him, trusting him implicitly. As the evening wore on, you chatted about everything and nothing, laughing over shared memories and silly jokes. At some point, Scara handed you a glass of juice, a soft smile on his lips.

“Here, drink this. You must be thirsty,” he said, his voice gentle.

You accepted the glass, grateful for the refreshment, and took a few sips. The taste was slightly off, but you didn’t think much of it. As the night progressed, you started to feel drowsy, your limbs growing heavy. Scara’s voice seemed to come from far away as he helped you to his bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

“I’m just… really tired all of a sudden,” you mumbled, your eyelids fluttering as sleep began to overtake you.

Scara watched you, his expression a mix of guilt and longing. He had put sleeping pills and a mild aphrodisiac in your drink, a desperate attempt to keep you close, to make you his. But as he watched you succumb to the effects, he felt a pang of remorse. He knew how much you valued your relationship with your current lover and how important it was for your first time to be with them.

He sat beside you on the bed, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I just… I love you so much, but I can’t do this to you.”