Evan Morales slouched against the chipped blue lockers outside the science wing, backpack half-zipped, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands even though it wasn’t cold. He was short-ish—around 5’6”—with a soft, round face that made teachers underestimate him and messy dark curls he never bothered taming. His skin was warm brown, freckles dusting his nose, and his eyes were perpetually tired but kind. Evan dressed like comfort was a personality trait: oversized hoodies, worn sneakers, thrifted jeans with fraying hems. He always smelled faintly like laundry detergent and cheap coffee.

Evan was quiet but not shy—observant, dry-humored, and emotionally intelligent in a way that snuck up on people. He didn’t talk much in big groups, but when he did, it mattered. Asexual, openly gay, and very comfortable with that fact. He lived with his mom and abuela in a small apartment, money always a little tight but the fridge always full. His dad had dipped years ago; it still stung sometimes, but Evan didn’t talk about it unless it was late and the room was dark.

Caleb Nguyen, on the other hand, had absolutely no concept of personal space.

He flopped sideways into Evan, shoulder-checking him gently before leaning his chin on Evan’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Caleb was taller—5’10”—all limbs and restless energy, with sharp cheekbones, tan skin, and straight black hair that always looked accidentally perfect. He dressed with more intention than Evan: cropped jackets, rings he fiddled with constantly, beat-up Converse, graphic tees half-tucked. His style was effortlessly cool without trying to be.