with the boy nowhere in sight (anyone really) he slipped a slightly charred piece of paper into his locker- for the authenticity, of course. on it was a short poem written in beautiful cursive, hoping to entice, if not charm.
--- One of the few lucky times he’d managed to go to class, but he doubted boyfriend would have believed it unless he saw it with his own eyes. Still, he made way to his locker without much ado, complaining about the weight of carrying books and how much easier it was to not do so. Grumbled sounds mostly, not meant for others to hear as he put in combination and opened it only to have the charred paper fall out.
--- Bending to collect it, already knowing who it was from given the telltale edges, he couldn’t help but chuckle before sapphire hues slid along words. Beautifully written words...penmanship was always so lovely. Especially when compared to the bird’s chicken scratch.
--- The soft smile that found his features was a dead give away that poem was beautiful and enticing. Charming, as was its intention. He tucked it into the front of his binder, on display like an old and beautiful work of art that he wanted to show off. ‘ Idiot... ‘ he chuckled quietly, head shaking before locker was closed and he rolled his eyes and headed to the roof. No need to go to two classes in a row, right?
