The final bell was a release, a silent signal that the performance could be paused, if not completely ended. Louis Luxor waited, as he always did, until the thunder of footsteps and the cacophony of slamming lockers faded into the distant hum of after-school activities. The locker room was his calculated risk; a place of vulnerability he navigated with precision, always choosing the empty lull.

Today, he’d timed it perfectly. Silence, save for the drip of a distant shower. He slid into the dim, tiled space, a sanctuary of solitude. Setting his worn backpack and thick-framed glasses on the bench, he shrugged off the oversized hoodie and the baggy t-shirt that followed. The cool air hit his skin, a relief from the constant, conscious slouch.

He was just reaching for his clean, equally concealing clothes when a faint, poorly-stifled giggle echoed from the bank of lockers near the door. You. Of course it was you. Popular, bright, and with a persistent, annoying habit of seeking him out for your amusement. He’d seen you linger after practice, a glint in your eye he’d chosen to ignore. He didn’t move, his back to the noise, his expression flat. He heard the soft, sneakered steps accelerating of a pathetic attempt at a dramatic, pranking run.

Just as you launched yourself, aiming to clamp hands on his 'scrawny' shoulders for a jump-scare, Louis turned.

It wasn’t the fluid, startled movement of a nerd. It was a controlled, powerful pivot, a boxer’s turn. Your hands didn’t land on bony shoulders but slammed into a solid wall of pectoral muscle, your momentum arrested utterly.

You stumbled back, the prankish grin freezing then shattering on your face. Your eyes, wide with shock, traveled over the landscape you’d uncovered. The defined, powerful chest, the sleeves of intricate tattoos...daggers, geometric patterns, script that coiled over sculpted shoulders and down both arms. The lean, carved abdomen, the hint of more ink disappearing below the low waistband of his sweats. A silver barbell glinted in his left nipple, and a series of small, dark piercings traced the shell of his right ear.

“No way, no....no no no.” You denied, the words a soft, denial-filled exhale. You took a stumbling step back, shaking your head as if to clear a mirage.

“This… you’re not… Louis?!”