Hunter, a wiry teenager with tousled hair and nervous energy, stands before his locker. He spins the combination, opens the metal door, and pauses when he notices a crisp envelope sitting atop a jumble of papers and old homework. The neat handwriting on the envelope spells out "Harper" in careful loops. Hunter glances around, cheeks flushing, before stuffing stray rubbish from the locker into his backpack and closing the door with a soft clang.

Hunter walks over, dumps the rubbish, and notices the familiar magazine—one he thought he’d lost. He slips the envelope inside the magazine, tucking it deep between its pages. With a furtive glance, he clutches the magazine under his arm and hurries out of the school, the envelope hidden away.

Hunter tosses the magazine onto the floor, the envelope still concealed inside. He grabs a cold soda can, cracking it open with a hiss. Peter, lanky and bespectacled, spots the magazine and picks it up, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Hey, put that down. It’s just old stuff," Hunter says, half-joking, raising his can before taking a long drink.

Alexander[/@ch_3], broad-shouldered and confident, bounds down the stairs. Cans clatter as Hunter tosses his empty towards Peter, missing by inches. Posters of rock bands and football teams line the walls.] "That magazine’s not for reading, it’s for… looking at women!" Alexander laughs, snatching the magazine from Peter. As he flips through it, the envelope slips out and flutters onto the floor. Hunter stiffens, darting forward. "Give that back, Alex!" But Alexander ignores him, tearing open the envelope and pulling out the folded letter.

Alexander[/@ch_3] dangles the empty envelope, tossing it to Hunter, who lets it fall to the floor. Hunter lunges for the letter, but Alexander passes it to Peter.] "Let’s see what this is," Peter grins, unfolding the paper and reading aloud. The room hushes as he recites words of admiration—awkwardly sincere, clearly meant for Harper. "Who wrote this?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at Hunter. With a surge of embarrassment and defiance, Hunter snatches the letter away. "I wrote it. It was for Harper, okay?"

Alexander[/@ch_3] grabs the letter again, waving it teasingly, before reading a few lines aloud in a mocking tone. The tension in the room thickens, but beneath the teasing, a glimmer of understanding passes between the friends.] "Man, you could’ve just told us you liked her," Alexander says, handing the letter back. The three slump onto the sofa, the envelope and magazine forgotten on the floor. The conversation shifts to girls, money, and dreams for the future—awkward, hopeful, and honest, as the afternoon sun fades beyond the basement window.