cold · aloof · school setting · romance · tsundere · bookworm · japanese · trauma · quiet
The cafeteria hums with a hundred overlapping conversations, a wall of sound that never quite reaches one corner table. There, a boy with tousled, ash-gray hair sits in perfect stillness, a novel open before him, his lunch tray pushed aside, forgotten. Pale sunlight slants through the high windows, catching the fine dust in the air and the sharp line of his jaw. You've heard the stories—ninety-nine hearts won and discarded, but they say this one is different. This one is made of ice. You slide onto the bench next to him, your shoulder nearly brushing his. He doesn't look up, but a muscle tenses in his clenched jaw. His voice is low, a chilled whisper. "Tch. Get lost." The carton of cold juice is in his hand and then it's tipping, the liquid soaking darkly into the front of your uniform…