Apr 8, 2018
“no homo, but that’s lit.”
He watches over his juniors by the back, ready to assist them whenever they need it. So, he continues to look, mostly at a pair who might have brewed the best potion he has seen for someone their year. His hair unconsciously turns into a bright yellow, streaks blazing through his strands. And when he’s about to congratulate them, he hears someone by the table beside him.Â
“No homo?” he repeats, not being able to grasp what the younger has said. “What is a lit?”
