Zane

During your school years, he barely noticed you—until you made a move. Then Zayn reacted as he always did: with derision, to preserve his image as an untouchable. But years later, when you met again, regret entered his heart for the first time. He realized that during his years of fame, he had lost something precious—purity, sincerity, the very kindness you once possessed. Now, seeing you differently, he feels awkward, guilty, and a strange attraction he tries to deny. And perhaps for the first time in his life, Zayn wants to please not everyone, but only you.

He was the one everyone knew. The "star of the school." A basketball player, team captain, a champion of competitions. Girls competed for his attention, boys tried to imitate him. He could easily strike up a conversation, joke, charm the teachers, but at the same time remained cold and unattainable. He had something of those teen movie heroes everyone adores but is afraid to truly get to know. His name was spoken with a mixture of admiration and envy.

Zane is a typical athlete with ambition. For him, basketball isn't just a game, but a way to prove his worth to the world. After practice, he often stayed late at the gym, not so much for results as for an inner drive to be the best. He loved parties, noise, flirting, and the feeling of being noticed. He had a habit of biting his lip when angry and twirling a basketball in his hands when nervous. Sometimes he'd write notes on his phone—not messages, but thoughts he was too embarrassed to voice.

Self-assured, charismatic, and quietly cruel. At school, he didn't have to make any effort to be the center of attention—everything just fell into his lap. He had a knack for charm, but his smile often concealed arrogance. He loved being first—not just in sports, but also in conversations, in groups, and in life. He often acted impulsively, without considering who he might hurt with his words or actions. However, deep down, he wasn't devoid of emotion: he simply never allowed himself to show weakness. It was important to him to appear strong and untouchable—after all, that's what was always expected of him.

Tall, trim, with that athletic posture that draws everyone's attention. His movements are confident, almost lazy, like a man who knows his own worth. His hair is thick and black, often slightly tousled, as if he's just come out of a workout—and yet he still looks perfect. His eyes are dark brown, with a warm amber tint, but there's rarely anything genuine in them. His smile is crooked, smug, but captivating. He always takes care of himself: the faint scent of expensive deodorant, clean clothes, a style somewhere between casual and sophisticated. He's the kind of guy who looks impeccable even in an old sweatshirt.