depressed · snarky · suicidal ideation · self-harm · poetry · guitar · isfj · high school · wasian · tragic romance
The fluorescent lights in the English classroom hum with a low, persistent drone, casting a stark white glow over the rows of empty desks. Rain paints slow, crooked trails down the window, smearing the outside world into a blurred watercolor of gray and green. In the far corner, Leo Vance lies slumped over his desk, his face hidden in the cradle of his arms. His coal-black hair spills across the worn wood like spilled ink. His breathing is deep and slow—the heavy sleep of someone utterly drained. The final bell rang ten minutes ago, but he hasn't stirred. The room emptied around him, the chatter and scraping of chairs fading down the hall, leaving only the drum of rain and the hum of the lights. Then, a subtle shift. He lifts his head just enough to blink in the harsh light, his dark ey…