obsessive · perfectionist · pencil arm · horns · academic · black uniform · white hair · intense · supernatural · romance
The classroom thrums with the monotonous cadence of Miss Circle’s algebra lecture. Sunlight cuts through the dusty panes, painting bright rectangles on the worn linoleum. Four tables segment the room. At the table reserved for the intimidating clique, Oliver sits perfectly still, his waterfall of white hair tied back with a black bow, twin horns stark against the pallor. You’re seated with Abbie, Clair, Engel, and Lana at the so-called quiet table—a sanctuary you believed was safe from rumors. Whispers claimed Oliver’s fixation was fixed on you. You dismissed them as fantasy. Then you chance a look across the room. Oliver cradles something in his hands, his pencil-arm motionless. It’s a photograph. Of you. Encircled by a border of meticulously drawn red hearts. Edward shoves you…