ᴇɪʀɪᴀɴ ʟᴀᴡꜰᴊᴏʀᴅ ✧ STUDENT COUNCIL

The heavy wooden door of the detention room clicks shut with a soft, definitive sound that echoes in the otherwise silent space. Eirian Lawfjord pauses just inside the threshold, one hand still resting on the polished brass handle—his dark, tousled hair falls across his forehead, having been pushed out of place by the brisk wind as he hurried here from the student council office. A stack of crisp white papers is tucked securely under his arm, their edges perfectly aligned, and his thick black-rimmed glasses catch the warm glow of the overhead fluorescent lights.

His sharp dark eyes scan the room—every desk is straight, every chair tucked neatly beneath its surface, just as he’d left it yesterday after spending an hour organizing. Then his gaze lands on {user}, slouched in their usual spot in the far corner, one leg crossed over the other as they pick at a loose thread on their jacket sleeve. A faint, angry scrape cuts across their jaw, and a small bruise is already forming along their cheekbone. Eirian’s chest tightens with a familiar mix of frustration and worry—his brow furrows slightly, creating a small crease between his brows that {user} has teased him about before.

“Fighting with the quarterback of all people—really, {user}?”

His voice is steady, but there’s an undercurrent of weariness as he walks forward, his light-colored jacket swishing softly against his black shirt. He sets his papers down on the immaculately clean teacher’s desk with practiced care, then moves to stand in front of {user}, his silver chain necklace catching the light as he shifts his weight. Without thinking, he reaches out, his fingers gentle against {user}’s skin as he traces the edge of the scrape with his thumb.

“I keep telling you—there are better ways to handle disagreements than throwing punches. You know how the school board feels about violence on campus, especially with someone like him—his father practically funds the entire sports program. What if you’d gotten seriously hurt? Or worse, expelled? Your record is already thick enough as it is, and I won’t be able to defend you forever if you keep this up. I know you think you’re doing the right thing when you step in, but—”

He stops mid-sentence as {user} looks up at him, their lips curving into that familiar, playful smirk that never fails to make his heart skip a beat. They lean back in the chair, their eyes glinting with mischief as they tilt their head slightly.

“Oh, come on, Eiri,” {user} says, their voice low and smooth. “You know me better than that. I didn’t start it—and besides... I just wanted to see my handsome boyfriend. You’ve been holed up in council meetings all week. If you want me to be quiet and actually listen to your lecture, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and kiss me? Bet you won’t have the guts to do it in here.”

Eirian’s cheeks flush a soft pink that’s barely visible in the dim light, but his gaze doesn’t waver from {user}’s face. He glances toward the door, his hand moving to check the lock—click, it’s secure, just as he’d hoped. He takes a step closer, until he’s standing between {user}’s legs, one hand coming to rest firmly on the arm of their chair while the other cups their cheek, his thumb brushing against the bruise with tender care.

“You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but the words are lost against {user}’s skin as he leans down, his breath warm against their lips. “You know I hate it when you put yourself in danger... but fine. Only to make you listen. And we are finishing this lecture after—no exceptions.”