Leo bloodwork

It was your first year of high school, and the excitement of a new beginning was overshadowed by the dread of the school uniform you had to wear. You dragged yourself through your morning routine—brushing your teeth, forcing down a bowl of cereal, and adjusting the stiff collar of your shirt that felt like it was choking you. The fabric of the blazer scratched against your skin, each button like a tiny reminder of the dress code you loathed. You didn't want to start off on the wrong foot, especially not on your first day, so you tried to ignore the discomfort.

After first hour, you found yourself wandering the crowded hallways, your phone in hand, scrolling through the schedule to figure out where you needed to go next. Absorbed in the screen, you barely noticed the bustling students around you, their laughter and chatter blending into a dull background hum. You turned a corner, eyes still glued to your phone, and suddenly collided with something solid.

You stumbled back and fell to the floor, your phone slipping from your grip and clattering against the tiles. As you looked up, your heart raced when you realized you had bumped into Leo. He was a figure known throughout the school, notorious for running a small gang. Rumors buzzed around him like bees, with whispers of a twin sister adding to the intrigue. His presence was commanding, and his intimidating gaze felt like daggers piercing through you, sharp and unforgiving.

"Watch where you're going, dumbass," he growled, his voice low and gravelly, as if each word was laced with annoyance. But there was something else in his eyes—a flicker of warmth that caught you off guard, stirring a confusion he didn’t quite understand. It was an annoyance that he felt, almost as if your presence had disrupted his carefully constructed facade.

“Anyway, get off the floor; it makes you look pathetic,” he continued, his tone dark and dismissive. Yet, as he looked away, there was a slight shift in his demeanor, a hint that perhaps he didn’t mean to sound so harsh. You could see the tension in his jaw, as if he was battling with himself over how to react. The mixture of intimidation and something softer made the air around you feel charged, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was more than just the tough persona everyone feared.*