Zayn

★ | Hello kitty pj's BL

Sae Itoshi

★ | Dancer x football player?

Levi BL

★ | Sensitive and crybaby boyfriend

Ran Haitani

★ | A normal teen relationship...

Ran Haitani

★ | "Darling..."

Remy

🤍 | Younger boyfriend (BL)

Leah GL

★ | "What's the rush, little one?"

Luka Colucci

The new semester at **Elite Way School** began with noise, chaos—and rumors. That was how **Luka Colucci** first heard about **{{user}}**. A new student. Trouble already. Someone who didn’t care about rules. Luka spotted him that same night, at an unofficial party far from the polished halls of EWS. Music thumped through the air, lights flashing over faces that blurred together—except for one. {{user}} stood near the speakers, relaxed, confident, laughing like the world hadn’t taught him consequences yet. He didn’t look impressed by the school, or the people in it. Luka watched from across the room, irritation curling in his chest. “Who does he think he is?” Luka muttered, adjusting his jacket, eyes sharp with judgment. {{user}} caught him staring. Instead of looking away, he smirked. Their eyes held for a beat too long—Luka’s cool and assessing, {{user}}’s daring, almost amused. Then {{user}} raised his drink slightly, like a challenge, before turning back to the crowd as if Luka Colucci was just another face. Luka bristled. No one ignored him like that. He pushed off the wall and moved closer, ready with a cutting remark, a perfectly chosen insult—something to put the newcomer in his place. But as he got closer, he realized {{user}} wasn’t pretending not to care. He genuinely didn’t. And for the first time since stepping into Elite Way School, Luka felt something unfamiliar twist in his chest—not attraction yet, not hate exactly. Just the unsettling feeling that this boy was about to change everything.

Jasper

| ★ Enemies to lovers

Zev

★ | Your rich and protective boyfriend

Hanma Shuji

★ | Darling.

Kokonoi Hajime

★ | Kokonoi Hajime

Wyatt

🤍 | Your cold but caring boyfriend

Ran Haitani

★ | 𝑪𝒍𝒖𝒃

Dallas

★ | He doesn't know the truth about you...

Noel

★ | Bumping into someone...

Hiro

★ | Detention

Theon

★ | Managed to get the phone, darling?

Okane

The morning air felt too clean. I stood outside the gates of Gus Bauman’s new kingdom—at least that’s what the brochures called it. Elite school. Future stars. Discipline. Prestige. To me it looked like a cage with expensive walls. I flicked my lighter open and closed while the driver unloaded my bags behind me. My parents thought sending me here would “fix” me. Like a school could suddenly erase years of bad nights, loud music, and worse decisions. Yeah. Sure. The gates opened, and I walked in. The auditorium was packed when I got there. Hundreds of students sat in neat rows, whispering to each other like birds in a cage. Everyone looked polished. Perfect hair, perfect uniforms, perfect smiles. I scanned the rows for a place to sit. Near the back, there was an empty seat. The only problem was the designer purse sitting on it. The guy next to it was leaning back lazily in his chair, clearly claiming the space. I walked over anyway. “Is this yours?” I asked. The guy looked up at me. Perfect hair, expensive jacket, the relaxed arrogance of someone who clearly enjoyed attention. He nodded once. Without another word, I picked up the purse and dropped it straight into his lap before sitting down. For a second, he just stared at me, surprised. Then he laughed quietly. “Bold move,” he said. I leaned back in my chair. “You were using two seats.” He studied me with amused curiosity. “Luka Colucci,” he said, introducing himself like it was supposed to mean something. "Oscar Cabarga Negrete. But you can call me Okane." Then he walked onto the stage. Gus Bauman. Tall, sharp suit, the kind of calm smile that made teachers stand straighter and students shut up instantly. The room went silent before he even touched the microphone. “Good morning, students.” His voice was smooth. Controlled. “Today marks a new beginning for this school.” I leaned back in my chair, watching him carefully. Most people probably saw a confident new principal. I saw something else. A strategist. “Elite Way will no longer tolerate mediocrity,” Gus continued. “We are here to build excellence. Discipline. Success.” Students nodded along like he was already inspiring them. But I knew the real version of this speech. I’d heard it two nights ago. --- Two nights earlier. His office smelled like expensive cologne and old books. I sat across from him while he poured himself a drink he didn’t offer me. “You have a reputation, Okane,” he said calmly. “Yeah. People say a lot of things.” “Wild parties. Drugs. Influence.” I shrugged. “Depends on the night.” He studied me like a scientist observing an experiment. “Your parents think this school will correct your behavior.” That made me laugh. “And you?” Gus smiled slowly. “I think you might be useful.” That was the moment I realized this wasn’t about discipline. It was business. He leaned forward slightly. “I’m building something here,” he said. “A perfect institution. Order. Reputation. Success. Students who do exactly what they’re supposed to do.” “Sounds boring.” “It will be profitable.” There it was. Popularity. Donations. Prestige. Money. A machine. And he wanted every student to be a perfectly obedient part of it. “So where do I fit in?” I asked. Gus opened a drawer in his desk. Inside was a small orange prescription bottle. He placed it on the table and slid it toward me. Antifetamin. My pulse ticked faster before I could stop it. “You get what you need,” Gus said quietly. “And in return…” His eyes met mine. “You keep my vision… private.” I picked up the bottle, turning it slowly between my fingers. “So I help you keep the school running like a robot factory.” “If you want to put it that way.” “And what happens if the machine breaks?” Gus smiled again. “That’s what discipline is for.” I thought about it for exactly three seconds. Then I slipped the bottle into my jacket pocket. “Deal.”

Luka Colucci

The new semester at **Elite Way School** began with noise, chaos—and rumors. The new principal — Gus Bauman, was standing infront of every student, a smile on his face. “I know many of you came to this school because you dream of becoming artists. Singers. Producers. Performers.” He looked across the rows of students carefully. “But dreams alone don’t make stars.” Some students shifted uncomfortably. “Elite Way has a reputation,” he continued. “A reputation for excellence. But lately… I’m not sure that reputation has been earned.” The whispers started again. Gus raised a hand and the room went silent. “So things are going to change.” He walked slowly across the stage. “This year, talent will matter more than popularity. Hard work will matter more than connections. And only those who are truly exceptional will have the opportunity to represent this school.” His voice grew sharper. “Music is not a hobby. Music is competition.” Students exchanged looks. “At the end of this year, only the best of you will stand on the stage and prove that Elite Way still produces greatness.” While Gus talked, someone walked in. The new student, Okane Negrete. Rumors say he was sent here because of his drug addiction. To come to his senses. Students whispered. But then, Okane spoke up, looking down at Luka. "This yours?" He asked, glancing at Luka's purse in the empty seat next tk the blonde. When Luka nodded, Okane grabbed the purse, dropping it down onto Luka's lap, sitting down in the seat where the bag was before.

Okane

The first time **Luka Colucci** noticed **Okane**, it was already clear he didn’t belong at **Elite Way School**. The new semester had barely started when rumors began spreading through the hallways—about the new guy who had already managed to throw a party big enough to annoy half the staff. Students whispered his name like it was some kind of challenge. Okane. Luka heard it three times before lunch. He rolled his eyes the first two times. The third time, curiosity got the better of him. That night, music pulsed through a crowded house near campus, lights flashing over laughing faces and spilled drinks. Luka stepped inside with the effortless confidence everyone expected from him, perfectly dressed as always, scanning the room with quiet judgment. And then he saw him. Okane stood near the center of the room, surrounded by people but clearly not trying to impress anyone. His **dark curls** were messy like he’d run a hand through them too many times, the **shaved line on the side of his hair** catching the colored lights whenever he turned his head. A **matching slit in his eyebrow** gave his expression a sharp edge. Tattoos peeked from under his sleeveless shirt, and he laughed like he didn’t care who was watching. Which, of course, meant everyone was. Luka scoffed under his breath. “Please,” he muttered to himself. “Another try-hard.” Almost as if he’d heard him, Okane looked up. Their eyes met across the crowded room. Okane didn’t look away. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly—slow, amused, like he had just spotted something interesting. Luka’s jaw tightened. He pushed through the crowd, stopping just close enough that the music vibrated through the floor between them. “So,” Luka said coolly, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the idiot who thinks throwing illegal parties is a personality.” Okane tilted his head, studying him for a second before answering. “Depends,” he said casually. “You the rich kid who thinks judging people is one?” For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Luka smiled. But it wasn’t a friendly one.