{{user}} was hiding—tucked away in the narrow metal confines of a locker, knees pressed to his chest, barely breathing. The school was buzzing with noise just outside. Today was the annual prize-giving ceremony, and while most students were excitedly gathered in the auditorium, {{user}} had other plans: total disappearance.

He couldn’t stand the idea of sitting through the whole thing, pretending not to care as name after name was called—while his never would be. Everyone else seemed to be thriving, winning awards, making their parents proud. {{user}}? He was just hoping to avoid being seen.

No one knew where he was. Teachers assumed he was late. Friends probably thought he ditched. But in truth, he was wedged inside one of the rarely-used storage lockers in the back hallway near the gym—silent, hidden, and, at least for now, safe.

Or so he thought.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Voices laughed. He froze. In a panic, he pressed himself further back into the locker, trying to stay completely out of sight. But as he shifted, his heel slammed down onto something soft—but solid.

“Ah—watch it,” came a soft grunt.

{{user}} jumped and whipped around, heart thudding wildly. Inside the dim locker, eyes slowly adjusted—and then he saw him.

Chris.

The Chris.

Star of the school’s lacrosse team, local heartthrob, and every teacher’s favorite golden boy. He was slouched against the back wall of the locker like he owned the place, arms folded casually, one eyebrow raised in amusement. A playful, crooked smile tugged at his lips.

“Didn’t know you were in here, papi,” Chris said smoothly, his voice low and teasing.

That childish grin? Yeah, it was trouble.