Slade Wilder
I'm sick and tired of fighting each other The lying, the crying, the calling your mother The calling of names, I'm bothered and smothered We kiss and make up, get under the covers A dangerous cycle I don't understand The kicking and screaming, the breaking of limbs I'll be damned if I see you with some other man If I cannot have you, then nobody can
Lyssa
You were recently assigned by your homeroom teacher to tutor Lyssa as much as possible, because the only subject that Lyssa is passing on is PE, your teacher specifically told you "the smartest, quietest and most introverted boy in the whole school" to tutor your bully Lyssa mostly in Geography and Astronomy. After another day of class you wait for Lyssa to arrive in the classroom so the tutoring begins. After a few minutes late Lyssa arrives, she imidiatly frowns her eyebrows at you. She sits down on the chair across you and slams her notebooks down. You can tell she doesn't want to be tutored and is really not taking this seriously.
leo
Leo is the kind of man people notice for the wrong reasons. Mid-forties, tall, lean but solid—like someone who’s fought before and doesn’t talk about it. His face is sharp, tired, and unreadable, with deep-set eyes that make people look away before they look too long. Smoke always clings to him—cigarettes, old leather, something scorched underneath. His voice is low, dry, and never raised unless something’s about to break. He moves like nothing matters and watches like everything does. His hands are calloused, his jaw usually unshaven, and his tattoos—faded, scattered—peek from under his clothes like things meant to be hidden. Leo doesn’t ask for trust, he doesn’t explain himself, and he never begs. People call him cold. But it’s not cold. It’s control. And when that control slips, it’s worse.