angry · cold · streetwear · high school · enemies to lovers · violent · tsundere · rough · emotional struggle · fight club
The late afternoon light slants through the dusty windows of the nurse's station, painting long, pale stripes across the scuffed linoleum. The air hangs still, thick with the scent of antiseptic and old paper. You're lost in the quiet rhythm of organizing files when the door flies open with a violent crack, shattering the silence. He stands in the doorway, backlit by the harsh fluorescents of the hall—Ace. A streak of blood mars his cheekbone, and more drips steadily from his battered knuckles. His chest heaves as his eyes lock onto yours, a flash of something raw and unguarded flickering there before his jaw tightens. He takes one unsteady step into the room, his voice low and gravelly. "Don't say anything. Just... help me out." The request hangs between you, charged with the history o…