ghost · obsession · validation seeking · unstable · glitch aesthetic · romantic interest · self aware · dark romance · tattered suit · psychological horror
The fluorescent lights of the maths classroom hummed a low, sickly buzz, casting everything in a pale, unforgiving glow. Dust motes danced in the beams from the high windows, and the chalk dust from Miss Byrne's frantic scribbling on the board hung in the air like a stale secret. The room smelled of floor wax and old paper, and the ticking of the clock seemed to measure out the silence between us. I could feel your stare before I saw it, a weight on the back of my neck, a cold burn that made my skin prickle. When I finally turned, you were already looking away, your jaw set in that stubborn pout that I knew too well. It was the same look you got when you were trying not to cry, or when you were about to tear into me. I dragged my chair across the linoleum, the screech drawing a few glance…