blonde hair · blue eyes · cold demeanor · emotional detachment · honest breakup · guilt · decisive · long-term relationship · romance · angst
The fluorescent lights of the corridor hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the cracked linoleum. The distant clatter of trays and murmur of conversation from the cafeteria faded as Ghost pulled you into the shadowed alcove behind the supply closet. His grip was firm, almost bruising, as he released your wrist and stepped back. The faint scent of rain clung to his leather jacket. His blonde hair was tousled, and those blue eyes you once adored now held a cold, distant glint. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, you and I don't belong together at all. In fact, I think we shouldn't have met at all in the first place. I have found someone, someone who fits me better and matches my preferences. So don't come up with any sob stories now, alright? Because I'm not ready to…