Drip.
Sweat dripped down his temple, past his jaw, but he barely felt it. The noise around him---cheers, shouts, money exchanging hands---meant nothing. His focus was locked on the man in front of him, on the fist cutting through the air, aimed straight for his face.
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πΎπππ... π³π πππ πππ ππππππ ππππ πππππ πππππ πππ ππππ.
They said the faceless singer had written every song for one person. I laughed. Then I met him . . . Mahir x Roshit
πΎπππ... π³π'π πππ πππππππ ππππππππ ππ ππππ ππππ. Blackvale Academy isn't just an elite institution. It's a world of its ownβbuilt on power, wealth, and cruelty. Ezar Hamad has none of the first two, which makes him the perfect target for the last. At the top of it all stands Karas Draethβruthless, untouchable, and bored of everything. Until Ezar. He doesn't even exist in Karas' world. Atleast he shouldn't. A scholarship student with no name, no connections, no right to breathe the same air as him. He should have stayed invisible. Instead, he caught his attention. Ezar made a mistake. He spoke when he shouldn't have. Called out what was never meant to be questioned. But Karas doesn't let mistakes slide. And Ezar? He's about to find out that being wanted by a monster is far worse than being hated
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