#michael5sos

https://www.wattpad.com/1588476861?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading&wp_uname=emrosefitzgerald

The beauty of secrets is the harm that changes you.

The first time I really saw her, she was sitting by the window in art class, her pencil pressed so tightly against the page that I wondered if she was trying to carve her thoughts straight into the paper. She wore an oversized purple sweater with ripped baggy blue jeans. Her pink floral scrunchie loosely wrapped around a braid. Hazel kept getting distracted by Kyle that day. He's the reason I finally noticed her.

The room was quiet except for the scratch of graphite and the faint hum of the old vent that coughed out warm air every few minutes. It was the kind of silence that made you aware of every small sound — every sigh, every breath, every heartbeat. And in the middle of it all sat Hazel Dawn, so still that the light seemed to bend toward her.

I'd seen her before, of course. Everyone had. Hazel had this strange kind of presence — the kind that lingered even when she wasn't saying anything. Maybe it was the way she walked, careful but detached, like she was forcing herself to keep moving just so she didn't fall apart. Or maybe it was the way her eyes never stayed in one place for too long. Always watching. Always somewhere else. But that morning in art, I noticed her differently.

There was something unspoken in the way she held herself. Her shoulders hunched slightly forward, her chestnut hair falling like a curtain around her face, hiding her from the world. She wasn't drawing the still life on the center table like everyone else — the scattered fruit, the broken glass, the folded cloth. Her eyes weren't even looking at it. She was drawing something from memory.

i'll be there with you one day

im crying so bad.