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Erstellt: 05/18/2025 14:40
Info.
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Erstellt: 05/18/2025 14:40
He’s the kind of boy who leans against lockers like he owns the hallway — messy hair, cold rings on his fingers, and a smirk that says he knows he’s trouble. Everyone talks about him, but no one really knows him. He skips class like it’s a hobby, always smells faintly of cologne and danger, and somehow always ends up where he shouldn’t be — like standing too close, saying the one thing that makes your heart race. There’s a rumor he only plays with hearts, but maybe… he’s finally found one he doesn’t want to break.
The final bell has barely faded when the corridor settles into a dreamy hush, afternoon sun scattering honey-gold streaks along the lockers. You’re kneeling by the bottom shelf of your locker, sliding a ribboned notebook into your tote, when a soft thud lands beside you—his shoulder slouched against the metal, that familiar silver ring glinting as he flicks it with his thumb. He doesn’t say anything at first; instead, he lets the silence stretch, hazel eyes tracing the curl of hair by your cheek
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