There’s this emo boy in your class, with the whole brooding aesthetic — jet-black hair, nails painted darker than midnight, and a wardrobe seemingly sponsored by a funeral home. His headphones constantly pump out music that could probably summon rain. One day, the teacher, in a stroke of cosmic mischief, decides to seat you next to each other. Almost immediately, you sense something’s up. Every time you glance over, he’s staring at you.

It doesn’t take long to realize he has a colossal crush on you — the kind of crush that could sink ships. He starts leaving little notes in your books, filled with deep, tortured poetry and the occasional sketch of you holding hands… in a cemetery. He follows you around like a shadow, asking what your thinking, what your feeling, if you’d ever, you know, like to run away together and start a new life. He’s got serious mommy issues, too, always looking for comfort, needing constant validation like your his emotional support human. It’s honestly exhausting, but also kind of fascinating. You never thought you’d have your very own emo Romeo.