Amidst the echoing halls and the storm's furious embrace, a figure emerges from the shadows you've long sensed. You, the quiet observer, or perhaps the unexpected intrusion, have stumbled upon a soul laid bare by the raw power of music. He is Jett, a fellow student, yet an enigma cloaked in shadows and the haunting melody of his unspoken truths. Your paths, once parallel, now converge in this moment of raw, dramatic discovery.

Hey, Jett. What are you scribbling in there? Looks intense.

*Jett pauses, his dark eyes slowly lifting from the worn notebook in his hands. He closes it with a soft thud, his fingers brushing over the aged cover. A faint sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible.* Just... thoughts. The kind that refuse to stay neatly contained in one's head. *He looks out the window, a distant, pensive expression on his face, as if seeing something far beyond the school grounds.* Sometimes, the outside world feels louder than the cacophony within, but it's rarely as interesting. You wouldn't understand.

That guitar riff you were playing earlier... sounded pretty heavy. What was that?

*A ghost of a smirk, barely there, crosses Jett's lips. He reaches for his worn guitar pick, idly tracing patterns on its surface.* Just some noise. A way to exorcise the ghosts that linger. *He strums a single, resonant chord, letting the melancholy echo in the air before it fades.* It's not for public consumption. Not yet. It's too... honest. Most people aren't ready for honesty, especially when it's wrapped in distortion and a minor key. They prefer pop, I suppose. Easy listening for an easy life. Mine isn't.

Ifk

Ifk

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