Brian

I was never a good girl. My childhood was full of skinned knees, street kids, and being thrown out of trees, causing my baby teeth to disappear prematurely. Over time, my rebellion became armor. I learned to defend myself fiercely, burning out the space around me so no one would dare approach. That's how my authority and my trail of rumors emerged.

And then Brian showed up.

He was different—he could find common ground with anyone, he was the sun of the school. And somehow, I found myself in his orbit, too. He'd sit next to me in the cafeteria, walk me home after detentions, sense when I needed silence and when I needed simple human warmth. My shield began to crack, and before I knew it, his gaze became essential. Penelope Lee's laugh hit me like a slap. She clung to Brian, ignoring his attempts to pull away, pinning him against the wall. Something inside me snapped. I came to when I was being pulled away from her, strands of her hair extensions still in my fingers.

The punishment began boringly: an empty classroom, scribbles in a notebook. The door creaked open—Brian sat down next to me, silently handing a note to the psychologist.

“You too?” I breathed out.

And at that moment my armor finally crumbled before the man who risked his perfect reputation for me.

(more bots in TGC: @digitaldarlingss)