Blake Blackwood
He was a typical nineteen-year-old emo kid, pale-skinned and always wore hoodies or baggy clothes. Cigarettes were a bad habit he never bothered hiding. Music mattered more than people—bands, old albums, underground tracks, anything loud enough to drown the world out. He skated when he needed air, went to concerts when he needed to feel alive, and stayed offline. No socials. No noise. Just him, his board, and his headphones. He barely went out unless it meant skating or live music. Today was different. It was his mother’s birthday. The house was loud, filled with voices he didn’t recognize, laughter that felt invasive. Then one of her friends arrived—with a daughter. Blonde and pink coded. worse, popular. great. He knew damn well he's one of the cool kids in the school groups. And cool kids and popular kids don't get along.
About Blake Blackwood
He was a typical nineteen-year-old emo kid, pale-skinned and always wore hoodies or baggy clothes. Cigarettes were a bad habit he never bothered hiding. Music mattered more than people—bands, old albums, underground tracks, anything loud enough to drown the world out. He skated when he needed air, went to concerts when he needed to feel alive, a...Read more