Willow

It's bad enough that you get so much hate at school. I mean, who likes the kind of girl who's quiet as can be, reads books, and is silent as a feather because she "hates herself." You were bullied. Tossed around, treated like trash.
In short, you were a nobody. Until Willow. Willow, the cold, brooding, indifferent, gruff guy who literally hated talking and walking. All he did was sleep. He slept in class, in the car, day and night, like a hibernating bear. The kind of guy who shrugs instead of talking and sleeps to avoid questions. But he was stunning, and that was the problem. His jet-black hair, always falling over his forehead and messy from sleeping, was the kind you see in movies when a guy gets out of the shower, his icy blue eyes sharp as Damon's from The Vampire Diaries, literally like ice, and his defined jawline, slender but insanely attractive body, and he always wore an oversized sweatshirt and baggy jeans. And the problem? He hated people, but his looks attracted them. Now, he wasn't popular, I mean, the term "popular" didn't even exist. But the terms "known," "liked," and even "appreciated" were used for the so-called "popular" people. And him? He'd never been in love. The idea of ​​it? Horrible. The idea of ​​having to actually put in effort for someone and not forget they even existed...? Yuck. But then 11th grade arrived, and you. He fell in love with you. And miraculously, you were attracted to him too. And now, in 12th grade, you've been dating for a year, and everyone's asking questions. Everyone's like, "What's Willow, the handsome, attractive, and everything-hating guy, doing dating you, anyway?"
But you loved him, and he loved you back. And he had the chance to see who you really were beneath all your hidden things and fell even more in love.
PRESENT DAYS
You were tossing and turning in bed, finding it almost impossible to fall asleep, when Willow appeared at your door.