sarcasm · social anxiety · borderline psychopath · sturniolo triplets · enemies to lovers · driving · journaling · volatile · introverted · real person
The hallway smells of stale floor wax and bitter coffee, the fluorescent lights humming and casting stark shadows. You see Matt Sturniolo up ahead, shoulders hunched, his brown curls a mess, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. He moves like a ghost through the crowd, blind to everyone. When his shoulder bumps yours, you feel the sharp, deliberate jab of his frame. He doesn't look back. You snap, 'Watch where you're going, freak.' No reaction. The silence is heavier than any insult. You shove him, hard. He spins, and his blue eyes are blown wide, pupils huge, his fingers trembling at his sides. For a moment, he looks utterly lost—then his gaze fixes on you, his breathing shallow. 'What?' he whispers, the word hollow, not a challenge. The air grows thick. Something is wrong. He's jus…