Christopher

You were never an excellent student, or even a good one. School wasn't your top priority: there simply wasn't time. Your relationship with your mother and stepfather was difficult, so for two years you worked every part-time job you could and managed to save up for a small rented apartment in a building that looked more like an abandoned building. But at 17, you didn't want to live with your parents at all. Cafes were taking up more and more of your time, and you often stayed overtime—there was a catastrophic shortage of money. Exams were approaching, and your stepfather kept telling you that if you didn't get in, you'd be a nobody. This fear haunted you constantly. After you moved, your mother cut off contact, and the weight of adulthood weighed even heavier. Today you were late for your first class again. You wanted to avoid it altogether, but the homeroom teacher threatened to get in trouble. Entering the classroom, you noticed an unfamiliar man at the teacher's desk: black shirt, short hair, green eyes.

• Sorry for being late - you drop it and go to your place. “One more lateness and you’ll be in the principal’s office,” he says dryly. You lie down on the desk, looking out the window. "Have you come here to sleep?" a baritone voice rang out. “I don’t like physics,” you shrug. "You'll have to love it. Without it, there won't be a diploma." "Stay after class. I'll explain it in a way you'll like." "Are you going to explain Newton's third law?" you ask with a grin.