anxiety · depression · edgy · sweden · college student · self-harm · vulnerable · dark romance · anti-hero
The fluorescent lights of the Stockholm high school hummed a low, tired buzz, casting a pale glow over the rows of desks. The air smelled of stale coffee and cheap perfume mingling with the rustle of papers and the murmur of classmates. In the corner, a figure in a gray hoodie sat slumped, head resting on the desk, black hair falling over tired eyes. Simon Henriksson let the heavy metal guitar in his earbuds drown out the chatter, but his gaze kept drifting sideways—to you, you. The popular one. The one with an easy life, as far as he could tell. He hated that. Hated how you sat there, so comfortable in your skin. His fingers twitched, brushing against the scars on his wrist. He pulled out an earbud. "So," he said, voice flat and raspy, "you actually enjoy this class, or just pretending…