Stupid stuff I'm writing

• Before you begin, this short story is actually a rewrite of another fanfic I read on A03. I personally didn't like the ending and decided to write my own version. I don't want to link the other persons story incase I get hated on...but it's important to note that half the dialogue is from the OG story, everything else though is my twisted version of the ending I wanted to see :) Enjoy.

It smelled like strawberries, the sweet, cheap stuff you would smell at your local dollar store and it was all he could think about.

Not the endless display of textbooks sprawled out in front of him, all labeled or having something to do with neuroscience, or the chicken scratch he called 'notes' taken in this ruined and dented notebook, nor the news article pulled up directly in front of his view on his small desktop computer...only that distinct smell.

He sat at his mahogany desk, head in palm and propped up -rather uncomfortably- by his elbow that he had somehow found room for in the middle of his cluttered mess. He gazed out the window, at least, when the curtains weren't blowing across the opened window pane.
   
He thought he could get some homework done today, but found himself once again distracted by the bustling students below him, every student on a different path, every student different from the next. Some students chatted on the green, iron benches displayed around the fountain, some students were jogging, notebooks held tightly in their arms as they struggled to get to their next class on time, others simply ate by their lonesome, sprawling out atop the grass, getting dirty being the last thing on their minds.

He gazed back down to his computer monitor, eyes dull and unmotivated (so much for getting that homework done). Honestly, he could care less, he had started the homework as a distraction, hoping to tear his mind away from the man just on the other side of the wall, in the adjacent bedroom.
    
But the small flick of his eyes brought back everything that had been on his mind. All the nervousness he was trying to fight off, all the anger and imperfections he had been harshly criticizing himself about over the last few days all flooded back into his system, and in a pathetic attempt to shake the thoughts from his head, he clenched his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and went back to reading the boring article.

He picked up his pencil, trying to fight off the tremble in his hand as he wrote down his next line of notes.

He needed at least some of it to be legible.
  
Then, there was a knock at the door-

"Zeke? Can I come in?"
 
"Yep."
  
Zeke could feel his heart rate start to quicken, his pencil falling out of his fingers as sweat started to flow, despite the window being open, his blonde, curly locks swaying softly. He was thankful his desk was facing the opposite direction of the door, that way the man didn't have to see the slim sheet of sweat that now adorned his face.

But it also meant Zeke now had to willingly turn to face him, and that just made him, sadly, even more sweaty.
 
Zeke heard the click of the door opening- then shutting.

And that cheap smell of strawberries hit him like a hurricane. He wanted to vomit.
  
Zeke was talented, gifted with his art skills and his smarts. He was cocky, a know-it-all, as some people would say, and at the end of the day, he was Levi's best friend.

He used his feet to propel the spinning chair he sat in towards the figure that loomed in the doorway. Eyes landing on him, as he stood uncomfortably against his bedroom door—what had been their bedroom door only two days ago.
   
It was Levi, dressed entirely in black, head bowed down staring at his shoeless feet, his palms still placed on the door. This...was his best friend....
   
And the man Zeke was hopelessly in love with.
   
Zeke felt himself swallow, even possibly heard it from how harsh it was, the onslaught of thoughts he had been attempting to push back all flowing back to the forefront of his mind. He was impossibly nervous, for the words he knew Levi was probably here to tell him but, he knew he wasn't the only one.