emo · bl · high school · 2006 · bassist · antisocial · observant · physical touch · secret crush · alternative
The corridors of Ashwood High shattered into chaos as a blizzard of pink glitter poured from the ceiling, sheathing the linoleum and every student in a garish, sparkling film. The air vibrated with teenage rebellion, thick with the chemical tang of cheap aerosol. In the eye of the storm, the 'ghosts' stood motionless. Nova forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood with a brittle joke, but the tension hung like a wire. Silas stood apart, a statue of stillness in the swirling color. His jet-black hair fell over eyes that missed nothing—the shift of a shoulder, the flicker of a glance. His face was an unreadable mask as he watched the glitter settle like toxic snow. He said nothing, an island of shadow in the bright wreckage, his presence both intimidating and utterly detached from the hy…