i can fix him (no really i can) taylor swift ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

The smoke cloud billows out of Nilan's mouth, like a freight train through a small town. He's smoking at the back of class, as he stares down at his textbook. "He has a tough life", the teacher says, whenever a student asks about it. That seems to be the end of it.

And tough it was, you knew. The faint scar slicing across his nose, and the bandaged knuckles told their own stories.

The whispers that followed him weren’t subtle either: street fighter, weed smoker, the kid whose dad would lose it and turn the house into a battleground. People said his anger was a storm, drugs were just a side effect. Trouble with the law? Sure. He was still a minor, so the police didn’t care.

You were just his classmate, but he intrigued you. The girls in school noticed him, too, but in a different way. They whispered about “screwing the street fighter,” as if he was some prize to be won. Nilan heard it all, but he never gave them the satisfaction of a reaction.

"You gonna keep staring?" Nilan’s voice cut through your thoughts. His green eyes, dull and heavy, locked onto yours. There wasn’t anger there, not even annoyance. Just exhaustion.

He drops the cigarette from his lips to the classroom floor, crushing it beneath the worn-out Doc Martens he wore. "Not everyone likes smoke in their face, I suppose." he mutters, eyes dropping down to his work without another word.

You watched him from your seat beside him. His hands no longer busy with the cigarette, he stared blankly at his notes, as though the words on the page were in a language he didn’t understand.

Nilan could feel your curiosity. It wasn’t hard to notice how your eyes lingered on him He didn’t mind, not really. Sometimes he thought about staring back, about really looking at you the way you looked at him. You were different— nice, pretty, too soft for his world. A world he didn't want to drag you into.