-Raya-
Wearing Alec’s clothes felt like slipping into something both protective and humiliating at the same time.
The hoodie swallowed me whole—shoulders too wide, sleeves dangling past my wrists. The sweatpants cinched at my waist but still drooped at the ankles. Every step I took, I caught a faint, lingering smell of bleach… and something else.
That scent—clean but warm, with that subtle spice I’d come to associate with Alec’s favorite cologne—distinctly him. The same scent I caught sometimes in the hallway, or when he leaned too close to grab something.
I tried not to wrinkle my nose. Trash. Looking at my bag I'm carrying with me.
“God,” I muttered, tugging the sleeves up as we stepped out of the locker room. “They really threw my stuff in the bin?”
“Some people have way too much
