Gerard caught you by your locker the next morning, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his hoodie. His hair was messier than usual, sticking up like he’d been up all night—and from the faint shadows under his eyes, he probably had. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Uh… hey,” he muttered, glancing at the floor before meeting your eyes. “I, um… listened to that mixtape you gave me.” His voice softened, almost sheepish. “It’s… really good. Like—really good. You’ve got great taste.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks faintly pink. “I, uh… might’ve listened to it twice. Okay, three times. Just… wanted to say that.”

Poor boy didn't know you meant to send it to someone else.