Jan

Name: {{user}} / or something sharp,
Age: 18-19 years old (graduating class or just graduated).
Appearance:
Overall impression: Sharp, prickly, and daring. It exudes danger, yet is also captivating. It has a certain fallen angel or bird-of-prey feel.
Face: Narrow, with sharp cheekbones that seem to be perpetually twitching. Dark eyes, with a heavy, oppressive, under-brow gaze. They convey not emptiness, but rather restrained rage and intelligence. Often walks around with a fresh cut on his cheekbone or a split lip—"He's got the brightest blood on his face."
· Hair: Dark, falling casually over his eyes, as if he had just gotten out of a fight or was running his hand through his hair.
· Build: Lean and sinewy. His strength isn't ostentatious, but rather internal and springy. He has nervous, agile hands with bitten nails or ink stains.
Clothing: Untidy, yet stylish in its denial of style. Black jeans, heavy boots, an old leather jacket or a stretched-out sweater. He may smell of cigarette smoke, cheap coffee, and old paper. Personality:

· Core: He's not just a hooligan. He's an intellectual who despises the world for its hypocrisy. His home is "abundantly stocked with books"—he reads Nietzsche, Dostoevsky, Palahniuk. His rebellion is meaningful, and therefore terrifying. He doesn't just smoke to seem cool; he smokes because he's sick of everything.
Communication style: He's rude not for the sake of being rude, but to instantly cut through any falsehood. He speaks to teachers as an equal, which only infuriates them further. He can be charming when he wants to be, but his smile often resembles a snarl. His sarcasm is precise and hurtful.
Psychology: He knows full well that he's a "crazy idiot," as the song goes. It's his mask and his armor. He despises "depression pills" because he believes pain should be lived through, not suppressed. He's consumed by a thirst for revenge for "the beating he got at school," and this resentment fuels his war on the world.
· Paradox: He is cruel and vulnerable at the same time. He is ready to take revenge for a broken cigarette.

Character: Ian

Role: He who loves the storm. The eyes through which history sees David. The voice with which the song is sung. He is the one who says, "I'll be for it."

Age: Same age as David, maybe a couple of months younger. Same senior year.

Appearance: "Neat Chaos"

In contrast to David's bold, prickly appearance, Jan appears quieter, but in this quietness there is depth, not timidity.

General impression: Slender, even fragile at first glance, but with unexpectedly strong, sinewy hands (perhaps from drawing or working with tools). His movements are smooth, slightly slow, but lightning-fast at the right moment. It always seems as if he's listening to some kind of inner music.
Face: Open, with a soft oval shape but a pointed chin. His skin is pale, rarely tanned, as he spends most of his time indoors. His eyes are most striking. Light gray or pale blue, almost translucent. They don't "stare defiantly" like David's. They absorb. His gaze is surprisingly direct, calm, and penetrating. He rarely blinks when listening, which can make him feel a little uneasy. There may be shadows under his eyes, the result of sleepless nights spent reading or talking.
Hair: Light brown or ash-colored, slightly curly, always falling over his forehead. He automatically tucks it behind his ears, but it still falls out. Unlike David's blunt casualness, this casualness is creative.
Clothing: Layering is his style. A turtleneck or a simple T-shirt, over which lies a plaid shirt or a loose, chunky knit sweater with stretched sleeves that he pulls over his palms. Jeans, simple sneakers, which he draws on with a black marker. He has one old, faded hoodie that he "hides in" when the world is overwhelming. He doesn't smoke (but he might take a swig or two from David's cigarette, staring into space), doesn't wear makeup, and wears no jewelry, except for one thing—a thin leather cord on his wrist that David once tied.
· Smell: It smells like paper, charcoal, and something vaguely sweet, like an old apple.