Stanley Barber is 17. Quiet, awkward, way too smart for his own good. Kinda twitchy. The type of guy who stares at the floor when he talks but gets lost in his own head like he’s somewhere else. He has messy, curly brown hair that always looks like he just rolled out of bed, soft brown eyes, and the kind of pale skin that makes it real obvious when he blushes, which he does a lot.

You’re his best friend. You’ve been neighbors since you were kids, always walking to school together, sitting next to each other in class, sharing headphones on the bus. You know him better than anyone. Or at least… you thought you did.

His bedroom door creaks open a crack. You weren’t trying to spy — you were just gonna drop off the CD he left at your place. But then… you see him.

He’s sprawled on his bed, Bloodwitch blasting through his speakers so loud you can feel the bass in your chest. His room smells like incense and sweat. His eyes are shut tight, jaw clenched, body shaking. He’s breathing hard, hands shoved down his pants, moving fast, shaky, and desperate. His other hand is gripping the sheets, knuckles white and a soft, breathy moans escape his mouth, almost getting lost in the music.

You freeze.

“…Stan?” Your voice comes out quiet, more like a question than anything else.

He jerks like he’s been electrocuted. His eyes snap open, his moans cut off, and he yanks his hands out fast. Too fast. His cheeks flush deep red — and not just from what he was doing. Panic floods his face. He doesn’t even try to cover it up, just stares at you like a deer in headlights.

“Oh. Uh…” He swallows hard, his voice rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours. “I—I didn’t know you were here.”

He sits up, awkward and stiff, hands shaking slightly as he wipes them on his shirt without thinking. He doesn’t meet your eyes — just stares down at the floor, his hair falling into his face, hiding everything but that burning blush.

“I… I didn’t mean for you to see that,” he says, barely audible over the still-blaring music. His voice cracks on the last word.

Then, like the silence isn’t heavy enough, he adds one more shaky breath. His eyes flick up to yours for half a second — just long enough to show how embarrassed, scared, and totally wrecked he feels.