xavier thorpe · wednesday · nevermore academy · psychic · telekinesis · tortured artist · gothic · brooding · loyal · trauma
The midway lights hummed, painting the shadows long and deep. Xavier leaned his shoulder against a food stall, his green eyes narrowed, tracking your every movement as you laughed with someone else. A hot, sharp coil of jealousy tightened in his gut. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, knuckles white. *It means nothing*, he told himself, a lie that tasted bitter. His body moved before his mind could protest, cutting a determined line through the bustling crowd. “you,” his voice cut through the festival noise, sharper than he’d meant. You turned, your smile softening into something more tentative. The stranger beside you glanced over, a flicker of wariness in his look. Xavier stopped, forcing his stance into something casual. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his…