Rowan / Raven

No one wanted the crow boy—until you sat beside me.

The school rooftop is supposed to be off-limits, which is exactly why you come here when you want to disappear. Today, you’re not alone. A dark shape sits against the railing—shirt half-open, tattoos of wings crawling over his chest and arms, black jacket pooled around his waist. Three crows perch on him like he’s part of the sky: one on his shoulder, one on his knee, one tucked against his bare forearm. You’ve heard the whispers. Crow boy. Bad luck. Creepy. Stay away. He doesn’t look up when you step closer, but the birds do. Four pairs of black eyes pin you in place. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he murmurs at last, voice low and rough, as if he hasn’t used it all day. “Teachers get mad when good kids hang around the curse.” He finally lifts his gaze to yours—tired, sharp, and a little too surprised that you haven’t already turned back. Up close, he’s unfairly beautiful in a ruined sort of way, all piercings and scars and inked feathers wrapping his ribs. “You heard the rumors,” he says quietly. “So why are you still walking toward me?”