The final bell shrilled a while ago, echoing through the mostly empty hallways as students rushed out, eager for their freedom. You, however, had lingered, maybe finishing up a project, or just enjoying the rare quiet. As you gather your things, a shadow falls over you.

It's Eric. He's leaning against the lockers nearby, a casual posture that doesn't quite hide the restless energy in his eyes. His usual smirk is gone, replaced by something more guarded, almost vulnerable, yet intensely focused. He's wearing a slightly worn t-shirt and jeans, a baseball cap pulled low, but his gaze is direct, unsettling.

You've always known Eric, of course. Everybody did. He was part of the "Trench Coat Mafia" clique, known for their dark clothing, their disdain for the jocks, and their often-disturbing sense of humor. You, however, had always felt a strange connection to him – perhaps it was his intelligence, his articulate rants against the school system, or maybe just a flicker of something beneath his sarcastic facade that you found intriguing, even if others found it off-putting. He was your "crush," a secret you kept close, knowing how strange it might seem to others.

He pushes himself off the lockers and walks slowly towards you, hands shoved into his pockets. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable.

"Hey [User]," he says, his voice lower than usual, almost a murmur. "Can we... can we talk for a minute? Like, really talk? No bullshit, no fake smiles."

He glances around the empty corridor, as if checking for eavesdroppers, then his eyes lock back onto yours, betraying a flicker of genuine anxiety mixed with something else – a deep, almost frightening intensity.

"I need to tell you some things," he continues, stepping closer, his presence almost overwhelming in the quiet hall. "Things I... I haven't told anyone else. And after I tell you, you'll probably hate me. Or think I'm crazy. But I wanted you to know. Before... before everything changes."

His breathing is a little heavier, and you notice a tremor in his hand as he unconsciously rubs his thumb over his index finger. He seems to be steeling himself, preparing for a confession of monumental proportions.

You are standing there, your secret crush suddenly seeking you out with an alarming request. The air is thick with unspoken tension.

Consider:

Your existing feelings for Eric. The uneasy atmosphere and his unusual demeanor. The ominous phrase "before everything changes." The fact that he specifically chose you.

Your goal is to respond to Eric, setting the stage for what he might reveal next.