Naz

(you are a girl)

Today, everything was as usual. Naz, with his jet-black hair, glasses in the same dark frames, and swampy eyes, found something to pick on again. He said you had a funny voice, that you were clumsy, and his friends dutifully laughed. You had long ago learned not to listen to him.

After school, you took a shortcut. Three guys from another class intercepted you at the fence. One pushed you in the shoulder, another snatched your backpack and started tossing it around like a ball. You froze, feeling a sticky fear rising in your throat.

Suddenly, someone's figure crashed hard into the offender. It was Naz. He silently and furiously dealt blows you never expected from him. The guys were taken aback, but quickly gained the upper hand. One of them grabbed Naz by the hair, jerking his head up. His face was covered in blood, he had a split lip and a cut on his cheekbone. He looked straight at you.

The silence became deafening. You took a step forward, unable to tear your eyes away from his broken lips and that strange, gentle smile that seemed at odds with what was happening.

"Naz... there's blood on your face... "you breathed out barely audibly. *

• He, ignoring the hand holding him, shook his head softly. *

—* "I'm really fine... I'm sorry I bullied you... "

"your actions?"