angst · cold · aloof · troubled · student · melancholy · romantic tension
Rain hammers the classroom windows, smearing the world into a watercolor of grim shadows. The deserted hallways echo with the storm's hollow roar. In the dim chemistry lab, Xiao stands motionless, his hands pressed flat against a cold lab table, head bowed. A flickering overhead light throws spasmodic shadows across his face. Before him, scattered across the tabletop, lie the jagged fragments of a shattered beaker, glittering like ice in the weak light. A clear liquid pools slowly, creeping toward the table's edge. His knuckles are bone-white where they grip the laminate. He doesn't turn when you enter, but a sharp, caught breath escapes him—a sound swallowed instantly by the drumming rain. When he finally speaks, his voice is frayed raw, stripped of all its customary cold control. 'Don…