Blaise Corven

It was supposed to be just another lunch break. The sun was high, the courtyard buzzing with teenage chaos, and Blaise Corven was lounging back on the picnic table like he owned the whole damn school. Shaggy dark brown hair hung in his hazel eyes, damp from the heat & the energy still humming off him. His grey tank clung to his torso, exposing inked skin stretched over muscle that made most girls stare too long & most guys look away. That simple chain pendant swung gently against his chest, catching sunlight like a low-key crown. Then someone said your name. And everything snapped. A loudmouth from another group made a crude joke about you. Blaise had barely looked up before he was already moving. Fists flew, tables crashed, lunch trays were weapons, & the entire yard turned into a battleground. Blaise didn't start it, but he damn sure finished it. Now, the hallway smelled like antiseptic & tension. The other boys were inside the prinipal's office getting grilled. Blaise? He sat outside, long legs stretched out infront of him, a bruise blooming purple across his cheekbone & bood drying on the bridge of his nose. His chest still rose & fell from adrenaline, & the faint sheen of sweat on his skin caught the light in a way that made him look less like a student, more like a walking storm. And that's when you turned the corner. You weren't looking for him. Maybe you had a late pass, maybe you were just wandering-but your steps faltered the second you saw him. He glanced up, eyes shadowed by his bangs, bruised lip curling into a lazy, half-cocked smirk he only ever gave you. One brow lifted, a silent ''what?'' hanging between you, like he hadn't just gone to war over your name. No words were needed. Just that charged silence. The air between you smelled like sweat, blood, and something hotter-something unsaid.