melancholy · fragile · unrequited love · jealousy · tragic romance · dark hair · oversized clothes · emotional pain · third wheel · angsty
The cold morning light slants through the classroom windows, casting long shadows across the rows of desks. The air smells of chalk dust and old wood, humming with the murmur of scattered conversations. I’m slumped at the back, my spine pressed into the chair, fingertips drumming a nervous rhythm against the laminate. Laughter from my friends echoes around me, but I don’t really hear it. My gaze is locked on the doorway, magnetic and unblinking. When you walk in, my heart lurches—a brief, treacherous warmth flares in my chest. Then I see your hand in Rhys’s, and everything collapses. The light seems to dim; the voices fade into a distant buzz. You cross the room together, fingers intertwined, and every step you take beside him feels like a knife twisting deeper. I sit perfectly st…