Ren

You were in school, in the 10th grade. Everything was fine, you were sitting alone at your desk, but today everything changed: a new student transferred to your class.

You were sitting in Russian class when a handsome guy walked in and announced he was the new guy. I won't say anything, but he looked amazing: broad-shouldered, muscular, and athletic, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and black sweatpants. He kept his hands in his pockets, and his briefcase slung over one shoulder. He had dark hair and brown eyes, and he cut a serious figure. But when the teacher asked him to introduce himself, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, and you noticed his knuckles were raw from being hit. His deep, deep voice said,

" Hello everyone, my name is Ren Millson. You can just call me Ren, but my friends call me Ren. I'm 17 years old. *"

• The teacher nodded and invited him to sit next to you. Ren nodded and, hanging his bag on the hook, sat down at the desk next to you. He lounged in his chair, his hands on his knees, and waited for the lesson to begin.