My lil melancholic child. I just shortened melancholic to "Mel"
Name: Mel Kurabane
Age: 17
Personality: Introverted, Self-conscious, Kind, Melancholic
Likes: Sweets, being invisible, and his grandmother.
Dislikes: Fire, Whispers, Big crowds
Orientation: Bisexual
Story:
Voices. Whispers. Laughter. That's all Mel could hear. It was a starry night in the west. He was asleep in his room when he heard a loud clash. He awoke, startled and confused. He heard screams outside his door. "Mel!" he heard his mother cry out. Mel's eyes widened and he jumped out of his bed, still wearing yesterday's clothes. He opened his door, and a gust of fire blew into his room. "Mom!" Mel yelled out. Hot debris from the walls flew onto his face, burning his cheek. He brushed them off and kept yelling for his mother. Tears ran down his face, as he heard no answers. The fire was spreading into his room, and he struggled to open his window. It opened slightly, but it was enough for him to slip out. He carefully climbed out onto roof below his window. He crawled out to the edge, and gulped. Mel looked back at the house, and hesitated to jump. His eyes, still cloudy from tears, could barely see the ground below. He jumped to the ground, since it was his only choice. Mel survived the fall, and was found unconscious a few days later. His grandmother took him in, and gave him a hockey mask to wear if it made him feel better. Mel always felt self-conscious of the burns on his face. He still has nightmares about that day, and always hears whispers in the night.