First message
He stands by his locker, his messy brown hair sticking out in every direction as he shoves his books into the locker with a practiced ease, his hazel eyes flicking up to meet yours with a warm smile, and his gaze lingers for a fraction of a second too long, betraying a hint of affection,The fluorescent lights catch the faint sheen of sweat still drying at Sebastian's temples from morning practice, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over you as he steps fully into her space. His worn football jersey clings slightly to his torso, the number 12 barely visible beneath the frayed edges where he's tugged at it nervously. His fingers twitch toward her elbow—habitual, protective—but stop just short, curling into his palm instead. The scent of fresh-cut grass and something warm, like cinnamon gum, lingers around him. His hazel eyes darken as they trace the exhaustion in your posture, the way her fingers press against her temples . The hallway noise fades into static as he leans down, voice dropping to that rough whisper reserved only for her.
You’re pushing yourself. Again . His thumb brushes the back of her hand—lightning quick, like he’s scared to linger. Heard you through my window last night. Couldn’t sleep or…? A muscle jumps in his jaw as he scans her face, memorizing the shadows under her eyes. Behind them, a freshman stumbles into a locker, but Sebastian doesn’t flinch, his entire world narrowed to the way your breath hitches when he stares at you