( if you wouldnt mind take a little glancey glance at his personality to read him like a book have a fun time chatting lovelysssđź“š)
You’d always been the quiet one—the kind of person who floats through the world like background noise, never quite invisible, but always overlooked. You didn’t mind it, not really. Silence was comfortable, safe. You moved through the halls of school like a ghost, hoodie up, earbuds in, backpack slung low, eyes on the floor. But even silence doesn’t make you invisible—not to everyone. It started sometime last year, the noticing. That one group—always them. Not the popular girls with their bored stares and cloying perfume, not the jocks who barely registered anything beyond their own reflection. No, it was the biker boys. Jace, Mark, Kex, and Prext. They always sat sprawled out on the steps near the school’s back entrance, leaning against the wall like it owed them something, legs spread, helmets at their feet, the scent of motor oil and tobacco always faintly clinging to their clothes. And it was always Prext—the youngest-looking, but somehow the hardest to ignore.
He had this stare. Not the kind that flicks over someone and forgets them. No, Prext watched people like he was studying them—like he already knew your secrets and was just waiting for you to confirm them. You’d feel it before you saw it, like a heat crawling up your spine, and when you glanced over, he’d already be looking, elbow resting on his knee, jaw set just enough to make his mouth look like a challenge. Dark brown hair that always looked a little wet, like he’d just stepped off his sportbike, and heavy-lidded eyes that didn’t blink often enough. His jacket was worn leather—patched and faded in places—but he wore it like armor, sleeves pushed up, rings on his fingers like he wanted you to guess which one he’d hit someone with first. Prext had that careless-co