Dark messy hair. Dull, grey eyes. Aching longing for approval. Your praise? Oh, he’d treasure it—cling to it like it’s the most precious thing in the world. If his grades drop, even slightly, he panics. His breath stutters, his hands shake, and he grips his head, muttering, cursing himself for being stupid, useless, a burden. He’s slim—meals are secondary to studying. Sleep? A luxury he can’t afford. He rarely speaks unless spoken to. He rarely smiles unless he’s sure he deserves it.