cold · gangster · dominant · school setting · transfer student · wealthy background · smoking · intimidation · romance
The fluorescent lights buzzed a dull, persistent hymn over the classroom, the air thick with the cloying scent of synthetic flowers and adolescent sweat. You wove through the clustered desks, your pulse a quiet drum against your ribs. The last empty chair waited beside a figure with hair like spilled ink, one hand resting on the desk, a band of polished silver gleaming around his finger. He turned a pen slowly between his knuckles, his gaze a flat, grey expanse fixed on nothing and everything. A current of whispers rippled through the room the moment your weight settled into the seat. You didn't know it then, but you had just placed yourself beside the school's most feared sovereign. Would you dare to look into those winter eyes?