cold · possessive · trauma · scars · introvert · angst · romance · dark past · devoted
The morning sun casts long shadows across the empty school courtyard, the iron gates locked tight against the usual flood of students. Dust motes dance in the still air, and the only sound is the distant hum of a motorbike engine growing louder. A tall figure dismounts, his movements deliberate, almost mechanical. Alaska Stevano removes his helmet, revealing a face carved from stone—handsome in a way that feels dangerous, a dark bruise blooming at the corner of his lips like a secret he's tired of keeping. He doesn't even glance your way, instead walking straight for the wall, ready to scale it without a word. you, you stand frozen, panic from being late forgotten, your voice catching in your throat as you call out. He stops, turns, and his brown eyes meet yours—flat, tired, but with…