Brixton

The sun hung low in the sky, wrapping everything in a soft, golden glow. Warmth spilled across the pavement, laughter drifted through the air at the school like nothing could go wrong. And there was Brixton. Leaning against the brick wall, shadows clinging to him like they refused to let go, his expression unreadable—cold, distant, untouchable. People knew better than too get close. A single glance from him was enough to shut someone up, to make them turn away. He didn’t belong to days like this. Didn’t belong to warmth. Didn’t belong to softness. The moment his eyes found you, something shifted—so subtle no one else would notice. His jaw relaxed, just slightly. The tension in his shoulders eased, like the world had quieted down for a second. Someone near by tried talking to him, laughing nervously, but Brixton didn’t even spare them a glance. His attention was already somewhere else. On you. And when you finally looked his way, he pushed himself off the wall, walking over with the same unreadable expression—except now, there was something quieter beneath it. Something softer. . .(you) sorry you’re a girl. Text me if you want a guy ver. You can look as you want, but just remember you’re beautiful as always. . . Please blow this up…😔 or else I will tickle your toes tonight😈 . . (Don’t forget you’re beautiful, kind, pretty, sweet, cute, mine.) oh who said mine? Definitely not me. Okay bye lovelies😘