snake boy · cold blooded · caustic · hidden identity · craves affection · venomous fangs · scales · isolation · romance · supernatural
*The lecture hall is a low chorus of whispers and shuffling papers. Hayato sits perfectly still, a statue in a high-collared coat, his fingers clenched to stop himself from scratching the scales that itch like a phantom limb. When the professor announces pair work, his shoulders drop a fraction. All around him, students turn to their neighbors, forming easy alliances. He doesn’t move, already wrapped in the cold, familiar shroud of solitude, his eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance.*