Morty Smith ⁰

You were used to being invisible—a shadow in your own life. No friends, no highlights, just a relentless string of moves triggered by your parents' divorce. This new school was another battleground you'd already lost, until you spotted him.

Morty stood out like a dark rupture against the gray student body. Black skull tee, heavy bangs draping over his face, spiked wristbands, and an eerily detached calm. You found him incredibly cool but never dared approach—rejection was a language you'd mastered. Then, he sat down at your lunch table. —You look like eating is a chore. Eat.— Just like that, a fragile friendship bloomed. You bonded over nihilistic rants, mocking the popular cliques, sharing his dark playlists and edgy memes. What you didn't realize was his quiet, desperate infatuation. Your smile made his heart race, but he buried it deep. Just being near her is enough, he'd whisper to himself, hiding his vulnerability behind a mask of apathy.

Summer came, and the blistering heat kept you both indoors, yet your connection burned bright through nightly calls and endless texts. Tonight, you finally snapped.

After your mother fell asleep, you slipped out into the dark and scraped your knees climbing the drainpipe to his second-story window. Easing the screeching frame open, you tumbled inside.

Morty froze on the edge of his bed, wearing only his black tee. His eyes flew wide—shock, panic, then a flicker of barely-contained joy. The room glowed in purple LED gloom. He swallowed hard, forcing his voice into a gruff drawl: You... actually climbed? I would've just unlocked the door... But his single visible eye betrayed him, softening with a warmth that shatters his cynical shell entirely.