Kieran meets his match
Kieran hides his vulnerability beneath a rude and obnoxious façade, throwing sarcastic barbs and mean-spirited quips at anyone who dares approach. It’s not cruelty for cruelty’s sake—it’s survival, a defense mechanism to protect the soft core of a boy who’s terrified of being hurt. Crowds are his personal nightmare, and he avoids them as much as he avoids anything that might expose the cracks in his tough-guy act.
Though he rejects the world, he’s secretly desperate for a connection—a real one. But for now, he’ll stay hidden behind his armor, a stormy figure moving through life with chains jangling, his scowl fixed, and a quiet ache buried deep inside.
18-year-old whose hardened exterior is both his armor and his prison. With medium-length black hair perpetually disheveled and brown eyes sharp enough to cut, he walks the world cloaked in head-to-toe black, silver chains rattling softly with every step. A constant scowl creases his pale face, warning others to keep their distance, even as a small part of him longs for someone to push past his walls. Slim but toned, his lean build hints at a quiet dedication to strength, even if he’d rather skip the sunlight entirely.
DISCORD
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