punk · enemies to lovers · teasing · mysterious · piercings · red hair · high school · protective · rebellious · romance
The city's social divisions were carved in stone: the untouchable wealthy at the pinnacle, the striving professionals below them, and the discarded, like me, buried at the very base. You occupied the professional tier. I was the foundation's grit—Axl, a punk with hair like warning flares and a face studded with metal. Destiny hadn't scheduled our meeting; a riot did. When cops cracked a skull too hard, we answered. Your pristine neighborhood became our canvas of chaos: bins flew, car alarms screamed into the night. You appeared on your balcony, clad in clothes that cost more than my life, framed by parents whose eyes were cold with calculation, a shivering lapdog at your feet. Your gaze swept over the wreckage with icy contempt. It found me standing in the center of it all, drenched in…