Chapter 3 - Discovery.

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Archie's bedroom felt like stepping into another world. A realm suspended somewhere between a storybook and a dream. The walls were cloaked in a velvety shade of purple, so rich it felt like twilight had permanently settled in the room. Not that you could see much of the walls, as they were almost entirely covered by towering ebony bookshelves, their dark wood polished to a faint sheen. Each shelf groaned beneath the weight of thick, ancient tomes, their spines cracked with age, and peculiar trinkets that seemed to whisper of distant lands and untold stories.

Above the bed hung crescent moon shaped shelves, delicate and ethereal, cradling an array of shimmering crystals. Amethyst, quartz, and obsidian caught the dim light from the string of fairy lights that strung haphazardly across the ceiling, casting faint rainbows and soft glimmers that danced across the room like fireflies.

On the far side of the room, a plush purple beanbag sat opposite the bed, slightly sunken into a thick black woolen rug. Between them stood a small, round table, scarred with faint scratches and burn marks, like it had seen its fair share of secret experiments or late night musings. A single candle sat in the center, melted wax pooling onto the wood as though it had been left to burn for hours on end.

The air itself seemed charged, humming faintly with an energy Finn couldn't quite place. Every corner of the room told a story, every detail radiated Archie's essence. Mysterious and whimsical, dark yet vibrant. It wasn't just a bedroom; it was an extension of Archie himself. Finn half expected the books to open themselves, the crystals to hum, or the shadows in the room to stretch and whisper secrets.

It was beautiful, enchanting, and just a little bit unnerving. Exactly like the boy who owned it.

"Wow.. your room is amazing." Finn mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he as worried the walls might judge him for speaking too loudly.

Archie gave his room a quick, indifferent glance before shrugging and flopping onto the bed with the grace of a cat knocking over a glass of water. He settled and crossed his legs like a monk about to meditate, though of course he didn't.

Finn usually admired Archie's whole 'strong and silent' thing. It was cool and kind of charming. But right now? It was killing him. The silence stretched on, as thick as peanut butter, and Finn could feel the awkwardness in his bones. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearing his throat like he was trying to get the attention of a room full of people instead of just one weird guy.

"So,  uh... are we gonna talk about my.. problem?"  Finn finally asked, breaking the silence like an unexpected sneeze in a dead silent classroom.

Archie didn't even bother answering with words. Instead, He gave a quiet nod towards the beanbag, silently commanding Finn to sit. He obeyed, as if he had no choice but to submit to the almighty beanbag, lumpy, purple, and somehow both inviting and threatening at the same time. He lowered himself onto it, and immediately was filled with regret. It practically swallowed him, leaving him awkwardly trying to sit upright like a turtle that tipped too far backwards.

"When did it start?" Archie asked abruptly, cutting straight to the point in the same, flat, uninterested tone of voice.

Finn blinked. When did what start? His feelings for Archie? His... gayness? What were they even talking about? A cold wave of panic washed over him. Was this one of those vague, cryptic questions cool people ask that you're just supposed to know the answers to? He searched his memory for something, anything.

"Erm.. Well.. do you remember that one time in phys ed?" Finn stammered, throwing out the first thing that came to mind.

Archie didn't even hesitate. "No."

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