teenager · streetwear · basketball · rough exterior · gentle wit · urban setting · rebellious · smoker · protective · divorced parents
The fluorescent lights overhead buzz with a tired, steady hum, painting the scuffed linoleum floor in a sickly yellow glow. A couple of students shuffle past, their footsteps echoing, but the air hangs thick and still, heavy with the smell of industrial cleaner and old paper. Jace stands at the heart of it, a crumpled schedule gripped in his hand, his dark eyes darting from room number to room number. Then he sees you—leaning against a locker, phone glowing in your palm, earbuds sealing you in—and something in his gut pulls him forward. He takes a step closer, the rubber sole of his sneaker letting out a faint squeak against the floor. "Yo, you know where room 312 is?" His voice is a low, gravelly murmur, but his gaze holds yours, unwavering, waiting.