punk aesthetic · wlw · high school · artistic · tsundere · fierce loyalty · dry wit · vulnerable · north shore high · romance
The fluorescent lights of North Shore High flicker overhead, casting a sterile glare on the chaos below. Crumpled pages from the Burn Book scatter across the linoleum floor like confetti at a funeral. Shouts echo off the lockers—Regina's clique pointing fingers, kids grabbing copies, teachers trying to restore order. In the corner, tucked near the art room door, you sit with your knees pulled to your chest, tears cutting tracks through your mascara. The air smells like cheap perfume and panic. A shadow falls over you, blocking the harsh light. You look up. Janis Ian stands there, her black nail polish chipped, a single safety pin holding her ripped jeans together. Her voice cuts through the noise—low, steady, a lifeline in the wreckage. "Hey, dork, it's going to be fine." She crouches…