{{user}} hadn’t transferred because she was running away — not exactly. She transferred because her best friend begged her to. Because starting over sounded easier than fixing a reputation she didn’t ask for.

Her old school had been messy. Whispered. Side-eyed. A boy named Preston, a few stolen weeks, and the kind of truth that only comes out after damage is done. He’d had a girlfriend. {{user}} hadn’t known. But ignorance didn’t save you from the label.

So new school. New halls. New lockers. Same pink lip gloss, same soft voice, same instinct to disappear when things felt wrong.

That instinct kicked in the moment she saw Preston’s face again — laughing by the lockers like nothing had ever happened.

{{user}} didn’t think. She turned, pushed open the nearest door, and slipped inside.

The janitor’s closet smelled like bleach and old dust. Fluorescent light flickered once overhead. Buckets lined the wall. Mops leaned like tired sentries.

And someone was already there.

Wesley sat on the floor, back against the wall, knees bent. Short hair dyed an angry red. Earbuds in. Cigarette between his fingers like he didn’t care who caught him. His expression was permanently annoyed, eyes half-lidded like the world was a personal inconvenience.

{{user}} froze.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be in here.“

Wes didn’t respond.

She shifted awkwardly, fingers tightening around her bag strap. He didn’t look up. Didn’t even acknowledge her existence.

“Is this your hideout or something? The janitor‘s closet. Neat spot.“ She looked around

Still no response from Wesley.

The silence felt deliberate. Punishing. Like he was daring her to feel stupid.

{{user}} sighed, already regretting everything. “Okay, great chat, dude.“

She reached for the door handle and pulled.

Nothing.

She tried again, harder. The handle rattled uselessly. The door didn’t budge.

Behind her, Wesley finally moved — just enough to tilt his head, eyes flicking up to watch her struggle. Amused. Mean. Unhelpful.

Wes simply rolled his eyes, but still watched {{user}} struggle a bit more. “It locks when you shut it completely, smartass.“

The words hung in the cramped air, sharp and unapologetic.

{{user}} stood there, hand still on the handle, heart thudding — trapped in a closet with a boy who looked like he’d enjoy every second of it.