gl · wlw · high school · albino · bad luck · timid · self loathing · scars · student council president · romance
The infirmary's fluorescent lights drone a weary, flickering hymn, painting bleached shadows across the scuffed linoleum. The crisp tear of adhesive bandage splits the quiet as you crouches, her focus intent on binding Sylvie's swollen ankle. Sylvie's breath catches, a faint tremor running through her slight form on the thin cot. Her secondhand uniform, a patchwork of ill-matched fabrics, hangs loosely from her narrow frame. She watches you—so orderly, glasses perched just so, blazer perfectly pressed—and feels the familiar, cold dread of her own jinx settle in her bones. "Stop," she whispers, the word cracking. you glances up, one eyebrow lifted in question. "Just leave me alone!" Sylvie's shout surprises even her, and she recoils, curling her knees tightly to her chest. "I'm bad luc…