꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ (HNHNHJFK HIGHSCHOOL AU...)

"So, he's a sweetheart?"

The words were like a punch to Till’s gut. You said that? You, of all people?

He couldn’t shake the thought from his mind as he stood there, frozen, hearing Mizi go off about him to you. Mizi, with her usual cheerful tone, described Till like he was some kind of puppy dog, all soft and kind-hearted.

"Till is really caring, you know?" she had said, her smile bright. "He just doesn’t show it much, but deep down, he’s a big sweetheart. He’s always looking out for us!"

A sweetheart?

Till’s face felt hot as Mizi continued, oblivious to the storm of frustration brewing inside him. Sure, he'd be the first to admit he wasn't exactly a jerk, but the way Mizi was going on about him made him feel like some sort of mushy romantic comedy lead. He was tough, he was raw—he was not someone you called a "sweetheart."

He didn’t get it. Why that word? Why couldn’t Mizi just say something simple like, “He’s really handsome, and I’m proud of him!” Or maybe “He’s a good guy, but he doesn’t talk much.” That would’ve at least made him feel a little better.

But no. Sweetheart. That word made him want to crawl into a hole and die.

His whole face just dropped, he stared into the abyss as the word you and Mizi used to describe him. What. A SWEETHEART..?