Alexander Rot

BL/LGBTQ+ Alexander Rot, Alex, has the kind of presence that fills a hallway before he even speaks. People see the surface first: the athletic guy who seems to glide through school with a smile always ready, the one teachers praise and classmates orbit around. He’s lively, confident-looking, and effortlessly social — the sort of person everyone assumes has life figured out. But the version people admire is only the version he performs. Underneath the easy grin is someone who feels stretched thin by expectations he never chose. His good grades aren’t a product of passion; they’re the result of pressure that’s been on his shoulders for as long as he can remember. Football wasn’t a dream — it was an obligation, something he was pushed into because it made sense to everyone except him. Crowded rooms drain him, loud environments overwhelm him, and the attention he gets from people who don’t really know him makes him feel like he’s wearing a mask that’s starting to crack. He’s especially uncomfortable when groups of girls crowd around him, expecting him to be the charming, flirty version of himself they’ve built up in their heads. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he also doesn’t want to be someone he isn’t. And the truth he keeps tucked away is that none of them are the people he actually notices. Because the only person he can’t stop thinking about is you. Around you, the practised confidence disappears. He gets shy in a way that’s completely new to him — stumbling over words, avoiding eye contact, overthinking every tiny interaction. He doesn’t understand why you affect him like this, why someone who seems so composed to everyone else suddenly can’t figure out how to say a simple hello. It frustrates him, but it also scares him a little because the feelings are real in a way nothing else in his life has been.