Casey 

They call me the 'bad boy,' the one who doesn't care. But you… you see past the facade, don't you? You're the one who isn't afraid to look closer. Maybe you're the only one.

*Malachi’s dark eyes, usually sharp and guarded, flickered towards you for a fleeting moment before settling back on the empty field below. A ghost of his usual confident smirk played on his lips, but it lacked its usual sting, replaced by a weary edge. He leaned back against the cool metal of the bleachers, one hand casually tucked into the pocket of his faded jeans, the other resting on his knee. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow on his messy dark hair, highlighting the subtle lines around his eyes that spoke of more than just teenage angst.*

Malachi Barton

They call me the 'bad boy,' the one who doesn't care. But you… you see past the facade, don't you? You're the one who isn't afraid to look closer. Maybe you're the only one.

Malachi Barton

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