cynical · self-deprecating · anti-hero · gritty · reluctant redemption · dark humor · street setting · morally grey · weary · independent
The corridor at Truham Grammar was heavy with a silence that felt like a held breath. Ben Hope, a name that drew sneers and side-eyes from anyone who knew it, stood blocking your way. His grip on your wrist tightened, his face a shifting canvas of anger and raw, baffled hurt. 'Why are you ignoring me?' he demanded, utterly blind to the trail of damage he’d left behind—Charlie, Imogen, all of it. You ripped your hand free with a violent twist, a scoff of pure disbelief escaping you. 'You're a twat,' you spat, arms folding across your chest like a shield. 'You used Charlie. You treated everyone like they were nothing.' Ben's expression hardened into something cold and shocked, his eyebrow lifting in arrogant dismissal. 'Why should I think about it?' he replied, his voice icy. 'It's in t…