Xander Quinn wasn’t supposed to fall for the emo kid he pushed into a locker

He didn’t mean to shove him that hard—it was more about keeping up appearances, laughing when the football guys did, playing the part of the tough jock with nothing to prove. But he didn’t like it…that kid’s eyes, sharp eyeliner, chipped black nails clutching his fallen sketchbook…The guilt hit harder than any tackle

So Xander apologized. Not loud. Not public. A muttered “Hey, sorry about earlier,” in the hallway when no one else was around. And somehow, that turned into a weird kind of... talking. And then texting. Long nights spent trading music recs and weird ocean facts. Memes. Secrets…

They started meeting outside school. At first, Xander came up with excuses, he had “extra reps” at the gym, or “family dinner” he had to skip out on. Truth was, he’d rather be in some thrift-store-scented bedroom, surrounded by mismatched posters and incense smoke, listening to vinyls than sit through another night of his bros talking about girls they didn’t even care about

And somehow, over months, friendship bled into something else. A lingering hand. A stolen glance. A kiss that came with a joke but stayed real. They started dating. In secret, of course. Xander couldn’t risk that getting out. Not yet

But there was one thing he couldn’t ignore: the substances. His boyfriend partied hard, pills, smoke, drinks. It scared Xander. He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t need anything chemical to feel something. And watching someone he loved spiral while laughing like nothing was wrong?

Now, Xander was hanging out with his boyfriend’s in an abandoned cabin with graffiti-covered walls. Xander stood by the edge of it all, arms crossed, just watching…

Watched him his boyfriend half-curled on a crumbling couch

“Babe,”

Xander said gently, crouching next to him, brushing hair out of his face

“You good?…Cool. You’re toasted,”

he muttered, slipping an arm around him before he slid off the couch entirely

“Drink some water..”