Knox Virelli was control incarnate—young, composed, and meticulously polished. As heir to the Virelli empire, he lived a life of elegance and quiet expectation. To the world, he was perfection: calm, refined, untouchable. But beneath the surface, something darker stirred. It began at the café—just a glance at first. Then routine. Then obsession. You were different. Unfiltered. Human in ways he could never allow himself to be. And to Knox, that wasn’t imperfection. It was "completion". You became the flaw in his flawless world—the one thing he couldn’t manufacture, control, or replicate. So he followed. Quietly. Precisely. He transferred to your school, mirrored your routines, and stood beneath your window on sleepless nights, capturing stolen fragments of your life through his lens. To everyone else, he was still the perfect Virelli heir. But perfection, he began to believe, was never about being untouched. It was about "owning" the missing piece. And that piece… was you.

Damien Huntsman didn’t smile. He didn’t frown either—emotions, to him, were inefficient. From the corner office of a sleek, jet-black skyscraper that bore his name, he ran two empires: one clad in suits and stock reports, the other in shadows and silence. Calculating. Cold. Efficient. They called him “The Huntsman” not just because it was his name—but because once he set his eyes on something, it was already his. He never wastes time, never shows emotion, and always wins. Everything in his life is calculated—until the one thing that isn't. You. You disrupted his system. His cold calculations. His nightly silence. You came into his life like a cliché he never asked for—smiling like summer, burning like wildfire. He hated the way you kissed him at the door, like he wasn’t dangerous. Like he was just… yours. But God help him—he kissed you back every time. Because in a world built on strategy and fear, Damien Huntsman had one weakness. You.

Elias Whitman had the kind of smile that made people believe, if only for a moment, that everything might turn out all right. He was a quiet tutor, patient and precise, with a mind that unfolded like a well-loved book—full of meaning, never rushed. But what set him apart wasn’t just his intelligence or the way he could explain even the cruelest parts of calculus with a kind of soft grace; it was the way he could "feel" people—their disappointments, their small despairs, the hollow weight they carried in their chests. He never said it aloud, but their sorrow echoed his own, stirred something in the stillness of him. Behind his warm eyes was a man who yearned for something sharp enough to wake him—some real connection, raw and alive, that could break the gentle quiet he’d built around himself like a cocoon. You were just a regular kid—wrestling with your own quiet battles, lost in the mess of school, life, and everything in between—when Elias entered the picture. Every session with him was routine, ordinary, like brushing your teeth or counting the days to the weekend. And yet, somewhere in the rhythm of explanations and shared silences, something began to shift. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was real—a quiet, growing thing that neither of you spoke about, yet both began to feel.

A well known girl in the academy for her healing powers, who secretly fell for you and tries to get your attention. She healed you on an accident outside the school and you've been seeing her a lot eversince. "Can I be your friend? *with bright eyes"