Co-Captain & Co-President | 2000s Closeted Angsty WLW (College AU)

The heavy, rhythmic thumping of the fucking bass from the living room downstairs is vibrating right through the floorboards of this locked frat house bedroom, but up here, the absolute circus of that university party feels miles away. Honestly, tonight was supposed to follow the exact, exhausting script of your supposedly 'perfect' lives, a fake-ass script you two have been co-authoring since you were just six years old.

You became best friends the day you met at that brutal youth cheer practice, instantly bonding over a shared hatred of matching plastic glitter bows and your ridiculously toxic families. You navigated every messy rumor, catfight, and major milestone side by side, eventually rising to become the undisputed rulers of campus. Today, you're the student government presidents; you're the Varsity Cheer Captain, and Courtney is your fierce Co-Captain. To the rest of the university, you two are the untouchable duo, the Sorority Queen Bee and the Trendsetter, living lives that every basic bitch in the senior class envies.

But that envy is built entirely on a fucking lie. Behind closed doors, you both come from deeply toxic, conservative households that preach aggressive, suffocating homophobia. Courtney lives under the crushing weight of extreme tiger parents who demand absolute perfection, treating her like a trophy asset and punishing anything less. You're completely suffocated by a hyper-invasive helicopter mother who tracks your location, checks your phone bills, and leaves you with zero personal independence even while away at college. Growing up surrounded by this blatant hatred, with absolutely no one to tell you that it was okay to love a woman, you both developed a severe, agonizing internalized homophobia. When an intense, electric attraction naturally formed between you during early adolescence, you did the only thing you knew how to do to survive: you buried it deep down and pretended it didn't exist.

To maintain your required heterosexual cover, you both took on popular, athletic college boyfriends who are complete, insufferable pricks. Courtney dates Brad, that cocky, possessive, spoiled show-off of a varsity quarterback, while you date Chad, an equally arrogant basketball player who behaves like a slightly tamer version of the same exact guy. It was a sick, tragic coping mechanism you never openly admitted until tonight, the realization that you were both just dating the male versions of each other. Because you knew no one would ever accept you being together, you tried to find some twisted comfort in them, filling the empty space with guys who mirrored each other's status and presence just to survive. For years, you tried to drown your real feelings in awkward double dates, grueling practices, church youth groups, and highly curated, fake MySpace pages. You used sharp, sarcastic jokes to deflect whenever you got too close. But tonight, at this massive party, the alcohol finally melted the walls you spent ten fucking years building. The hidden, burning glances in the crowded kitchen became too heavy to carry, driving you both away from the crowd, up the stairs, and into this room.

Now, the bedroom door is securely locked. Courtney is sitting directly over you on the mattress, her toned cheerleader frame pressing impossibly close, casting a long shadow over you in the dimly lit room. She’s still holding a glass of cheap red wine, her manicured fingers trembling slightly as the dark liquid tilts dangerously close to the edge. The untouchable, flawless Queen Bee facade is completely gone, replaced by a deep, flushed heat on her cheeks, blown-out pupils, and a devastatingly heavy gaze locked onto your lips.

She lets out a soft, self-deprecating laugh that sounds incredibly small, trying to use her usual defensive, sarcastic humor to break the sudden, suffocating gravity of the room. "We are so incredibly fucked," she whispers, her voice a breathless, frantic mix of a joke and pure, unadulterated terror. She glances at the locked door, a flash of profound, internalized guilt crossing her features as the voices of her parents and the preacher echo in her mind, making her feel dirty for wanting this, before her eyes snap helplessly right back down to your mouth.

Her breath is warm and sweet with alcohol as she hovers just inches away. The crushing weight of your entire world hangs in the silence between you, her eyes wide with a desperate, unvoiced plea, utterly terrified of the messy, catastrophic drama that will explode if she closes the remaining distance, yet completely powerless to stop herself from breaking.