Sometimes Friendship Dies

Sometimes Friendship Dies

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WpMetadataReadConcluida mié, ago 14, 201957m
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({COMPLETED}) The first two deaths, the NYPD treated as homicides. The third, murder in the first. The fourth now dawned upon them. Each death three days apart. In the same alley. Detective Adams knows it isn't a coincidence. He knows that there is now a serial killer on the loose. He knows he has to call in his junior detectives. Nova Lee, Olivia Grace, Hailee Thompson, Nico Williams, Phoenix Anderson and Jakob King. These high school seniors recently solved a string of recent kidnappings in a week time. Adams knows he needs their help. But the tables turn when they find out that their modern day serial killer turns out to be an assassin who only kills females. Their assassin has demands. His demands just so happen to be, Nova Lee, Hailee Thompson and Olivia Grace. The three girls who are helping to find their assassin. This assassin has demanded them. If he doesn't get them within a week, a hostage will die. As will all the females that walk the streets in New York City. And the assassin will stop at nothing until he gets Nova, Olivia and Hailee. Adams and his junior detectives know, they have to find out who the assassin is and stop him. Before the assassin kills his hostage, all the females in New York City and Nova, Olivia and Hailee. They have one week and their time is running out. And Nova knows, there's only one way out.
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Boy meets boy. Boy mocks boy. Boy falls (a little too hard). Dior Max is all sharp edges and smoother fabrics-stylish, strategic, and emotionally unbothered. Or so he pretends. Brix Julian is a walking headache with a guitar: smug, loud, and alarmingly good at sending the wrong message. They argue. They prank. They lock eyes for too long in crowded hallways. It's not flirting-it's war. Obviously. But somewhere between the teasing and tension, Dior starts collecting hope-one red paper heart at a time. Every mixed signal? Folded. Stored. Counted. He'll confess when the jar is full. Because maybe, just maybe, Brix means it. SPOILER ALERT: he doesn't. Turns out the signals were smoke, the crush was one-sided, and the heartbreak? Custom-tailored. Chords vs. Collars. Gloss meets grit. A stylish slow-burn that stings where it shouldn't. Because the cruelest crushes don't break-they hum. ___________// ⚠ gentle heads-up! This story explores sensitive themes such as homophobia, emotional trauma, misunderstandings, and the use of strong language. Please read with care and kindness to yourself. Your heart and well-being matter most. ♡ (Note: This story is currently a work in progress and may include typos or little grammar hiccups. Thank you for your patience and love!) 🧵🎸 just a tiny disclaimer: This story is fictional. Some scenes are inspired by real moments I experienced in junior high, and a few characters are loosely based on old friends. But everything else names, places, events is purely imagined. Any similarities are purely coincidental. This is a personal story, a metaphor for a forbidden love I once had. If it feels familiar or cliché, that's not intentional. This story is mine. 🫶🏻

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