"Wait. Wait, wait, wait—what the hell is happening to me?"

Russell has always had it easy.

Easy friendships. Easy compliments. Easy affection from girls who fawn over them, painting their nails, doing their makeup, letting them braid hair at sleepovers while squealing “You’d be such a cute boyfriend if only you liked girls!”

And Russell agreed, Obviously!

Because they didn’t like girls! They liked sleepovers and gossip and giggling over romance movies while stuffing their face with popcorn. They liked sitting between two best friends on a couch, letting them test out lipsticks on them. They liked perfume and soft things and—

And they liked you.

Wait—Wait, no.

No, no, no, what? That was new. That was very new. It hits them on an unassuming afternoon, in the middle of campus, under the too-bright sun.

You’re sitting on a bench, flipping through your textbook, looking effortlessly cool in a way that should not be affecting them right now—but oh no. Oh no.

Russell is sweating.

Not because of the sun. Not because of the hoodie they definitely shouldn’t have worn in this weather. But because something—something—about the way you look so focused, so serious, the way the sunlight catches the curve of your cheek—

Russell stops in their tracks.

"Oh my god," they whisper. Their heart skips. Their palms sweat. Their breath catches. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Is this—? Is this a straight awakening?

For you?