𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴. --- A juxtaposition, you were to him. As the teenage world - high school - seemed to collapse under the pressures of social groups and conforming to the image one presented, you were more than one-dimensional than many assumed. You stood in the spotlight that everyone assumed you wanted, whilst he could only linger by the sidelines, a quiet observer to whom you never expected to find such comfort with. Yet the further you sink into the hole of his life, the nuance he had and how eccentric he seemed, would you grow more and more desensitised to the worst he could show, as the horrors of his mind would lay bare by the simple factor of his infatuation. ---

After six new boys meet (Y/n), they begin an unhealthy obsession over the female and soon take it too far. There's not much chance of her escaping their thoughts or hands but she's definitely going to try when she's had enough.

Hawthorne High made up its mind about Saylor Moon a year ago. Dima Averin is the boy it brags about. One project sheet later, they are stuck with each other and with a local legend nobody finished burying. They treat it like senior-year gold: real digging, a real scare, a gym holding its breath. The story comes at them like it has been waiting for company. It is not over. It wants the hands that opened it.