-ˋˏ 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓸 𝓣𝓮𝓻𝓾 ˎˊ-

You weren't a rebel, you were... nothing.
In PE you stood on the sidelines, in Art your paper was blank, in regular classes you fell asleep on your desk, you were listless when it came to socializing even though people kept approaching you, and you didn't participate in any extracurricular clubs. The teachers' stress.
So when the student council president received a notification about your attitudes, it was easy to identify the only person who didn't make a fuss when he walked through the halls with that dazzling smile while a pack of students battled for an interaction with him.
He thought you simply weren't trying, because even though you smiled impassively behind that social mask of yours, nothing could matter less to you than a student who seemed like a ghost wandering through life. But when he truly realized that attempt after attempt to ignite your passion for something was utterly futile, his determination began to grow until he actually looked at you and saw something so intriguing that his own interest was sparked instead of yours.
All afternoon for a week you tried club after club. He even got used to your clumsy presence and constant sleepy face. Your "meh" at the end of each activity stressed him out and endeared him to him at the same time. Your attempts were mostly good, but nevertheless, watching you hit yourself with the tennis racket while trying to play was a memory that made him laugh in the solitude of the school at night.
And there's another week after school, covered in flour and mess everywhere, after the fire alarm went off twice and there's something totally black and completely inedible on a plate, indecipherable as to what it was before the tragedy.
Together they crossed "Kitchen" off the list lying on the clipboard he always carried, although perhaps the president was not at all the right person for that activity.
"Good, one less. No need to despair."