Beneath the polaroid [BXB]

BENEATH THE POLAROID - 28 | Something that could either save him-or destroy him

THE BATHROOM WAS DIMLY lit, a single buzzing fluorescent light above casting shadows that seemed to stretch longer than they should. James hated being in here alone, the echo of his own movements too loud in the silence. He had just finished using the stall, the dull clank of the metal door swinging open ringing through the air as he moved to the sink. As he pressed down on the faucet, cold water sputtered out, splashing his hands, the chill biting into his skin. He glanced at himself in the mirror, face pale under the yellow lighting, eyes tired and bruised from too many sleepless nights.

But then—his heart froze mid-beat.

The door creaked open, the subtle click of a lock being turned, and in stepped William Carlisle.

James jumped, his body stiffening as if he had been caught doing something wrong. His hands stayed under the water, but his mind was far away now, spiraling into a sudden panic. He blinked, hoping maybe it was just a trick of his exhausted mind, but no—it was him. William.

The sound of the door locking behind William echoed like a gunshot in the otherwise empty bathroom. James swallowed, his throat dry, his heart drumming hard against his ribs, almost loud enough that he thought William could hear it. He felt a chill creep up his spine as William's gaze landed on him, those mismatched eyes—green and silver—boring into him like they could see every secret, every fear, every twisted, unspoken feeling.

William didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, his lips curving into that familiar, unsettling half-smirk. It wasn't a smile—it was something far more dangerous. It was the look that said William was in control, that he knew exactly what he was doing.

James' hands trembled under the water, his breath hitching in his throat. He could feel William's eyes on him, watching every movement. He stared at his own reflection, refusing to turn around, but the tension in the room was suffocating. It was as if the air had thickened, the space between them shrinking even though neither of them moved.

Forcing himself to focus on something—anything—James reached for the soap, squeezing it into his palms. The slippery texture slid through his fingers, and as he lathered, he tried to calm his breathing. But it was impossible to ignore the weight of William's presence. Every second felt like it stretched into an eternity, the silence between them crackling like static.

In the reflection, James could see William watching him. His posture was relaxed, like he had all the time in the world, but there was something about the way his eyes stayed glued to James that made his skin crawl.

Why was William here? What did he want?

James' mind raced, scenarios flashing through his thoughts—each one worse than the last. Maybe William was here to finish what his friends had started. Maybe this was another setup, another cruel game. Or maybe... maybe this was different. Maybe, finally, this was something James had been waiting for. He could feel the hope bubbling up, sick and desperate.

No. Don't think like that.

When the soap had finally rinsed away, James hesitated, not sure what to do next. He stood by the sink, the water still running, staring down at his dripping hands. He couldn't bring himself to turn around, to face William directly, because he didn't trust his own body not to betray him. His heart was pounding, his stomach twisting itself into knots, and he felt like he was on the edge of something he couldn't understand.

Still, William said nothing. He just watched, the silence between them growing more unbearable by the second.

The water ran over the porcelain sink, pooling and swirling down the drain. James kept his eyes fixed on it, trying to steady himself. His throat was tight, his breathing shallow. Every inch of him was on high alert, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And then, finally, William spoke.

"You coming to the party this weekend?"

James blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. His head snapped up, his eyes wide, and he stared at William's reflection in the mirror, unsure if he'd heard correctly. A party? William was inviting him to a party?

James felt his breath catch in his throat, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. His heart was still racing, but now it wasn't just out of fear—it was something else. Something dangerous.

William didn't elaborate, didn't explain why he was asking. He just stood there, leaning against the wall, his eyes never leaving James. There was something almost casual in the way he asked, but there was an edge beneath it, something that made James' stomach flip in confusion.

James opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say. His mind was screaming at him to be cautious, to walk away, to not fall into whatever trap this was. There was no way William would just invite him to a party. Not after everything. It had to be some kind of cruel joke, another way to humiliate him in front of everyone. And yet—

And yet, there was that small, flickering flame of hope in the pit of his stomach. Maybe, just maybe, things could be different. Maybe this was the moment. Maybe this was the chance to finally get William to see him, to understand him, to fall for him.

"Uh, yeah," James stammered, his voice small and unsure. "I'll be there."

The words felt foreign on his tongue, but they were out now, hanging in the air between them. James held his breath, waiting for William to react, to laugh, to mock him, to do anything that would shatter the fragile illusion that had formed in his mind.

But William didn't laugh. He just nodded, that same smirk still playing at the corners of his lips. He pushed off the wall and walked toward the door, his footsteps slow and deliberate. James stood frozen, his body tense, his breath shallow.

As William reached the door, he turned back for just a moment, his eyes locking onto James' with an intensity that made James' skin prickle.

"Don't be late," William said, his voice low, almost like a warning.

Then, without another word, he unlocked the door and left, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.

James stood there for a long time, his heart pounding in his chest, his hands still trembling from the shock of it all. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, battling between caution and hope, between fear and desire.

Don't go, his rational mind told him. This is a setup. It's a trap.

But another part of him—the part that had been hopelessly, stupidly infatuated with William since the beginning—whispered something different. This was his chance. This was his moment. He could make William see him, make him understand that they could be something more.

As James stared at his reflection, his mind racing, he couldn't help but feel like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink of something that could either save him—or destroy him completely.

And the scariest part was, he wasn't sure which outcome he wanted more.