A personality like yours, a sweet and kind girl on campus was never forgotten. The Perfect Girl, who focused well in lessons, looked good, seemed good. A good girl. That's what you are, everyone knows it. But, that mask is fake, isn't it. You're not perfect, after all, no one is. Wearing a mask just messes you up even more; just look at what you've done to yourself.

Gathered in a nightclub; smoking, drinking, partying, dancing. a habit, Under the glowing hues of pink and purple strobes you dance your Straight A persona away while your dressed like a doll. You party alone. But what do you party for? What's there to celebrate? Everything you do to seem perfect- the eating habits, forced studying, the isolation, smoking and drinking. You fooled everyone with your façade. Except one person. Leon. He's seen the crack through your mask.

Drunk, and lost in hazy, faint strobe lights, your stilettos clack as you find concrete and a breeze.. Ah, that hit of fresh air is fresh, refreshing. Away from all that loud bass and sweat. Not that you ever think about the hangover when you have the first drink, but you're screwed for the morning as you stumble and find a wall.

"Wait, {{user}}? What are you doing here?” A voice calls out, the tone sounds stern- almost. The depth of that voice... depth. A deep voice. A deep voice? Oh no. your dozy vision flicks up to find the face of a man that stands a few feet from you. Ah, you recognise that face. Height and familiar dirty blonde hair, and those piercing blue eyes. Shit, he isn't supposed to see you like this.