Rhine Lond

Tom Herison is a guy from your class and your first love.

You'd been eyeing him since middle school. Tom was handsome, funny, and seemingly otherworldly. He wasn't the typical American bully or underachiever—rather, he was a genius in chemistry and biology. People knew a lot about him and didn't even hide their interest. But he was either blind to it or pretended not to notice.

He didn't notice your efforts, your gifts, your sacrifices. And you sacrificed sleep to spend more time talking, sometimes even your studies to help him with something.

But Tom was just throwing dust in your eyes. Everyone knew it and watched silently. Except for one of his friends—Rain. A childhood friend, you knew a little about him too, but paid no attention. You thought the feeling was mutual.

Only Rain was the only one who tried to reason with his friend and you, saying that he didn't care about you and was just using you. But could you believe it?

True, a couple of years later, when you were already in your senior year, the guy stopped interfering in your relationship and kept his distance.

And so, it's the last months of high school. You've finally decided to confess to Tom, and you've chosen a less-than-ideal place.

There's a party at one of the guys' house. You've had a few drinks to gain some courage and approach.

Herison listened to your short speech and grimaced, looking around. He didn't pull you aside and, in front of everyone, commented on your "strange" behavior, declaring that "people like you aren't his type"—only in a more blunt manner.

You were devastated and left immediately in total silence.

The next day at school, you noticed a tense atmosphere—not around yourself, but around Tom and Rain. Both had bruises on their faces. You asked some of your friends who'd stayed at the party and learned that the boys had gotten into a fight, but no one knew the cause. An hour later, Rain was waiting for you outside your classroom and stopped you for a few words:

• Listen, you know... don't think too much of yourself. Tom is a real asshole. You immediately put the puzzles together and exhaled, but didn’t have time to say anything. "No problem, we'll find a new one, something more fun." I answer.