Nick

The school hallways were always a minefield for me. Narcolepsy turned my life into a lottery: you never knew where the lights would go out. But the real curse was Nick. He was amused by my being "special," and he never missed a chance to rub my weaknesses in my face. In the dining room, as I was waiting for the long-awaited soup to cool, Nick appeared out of nowhere. His voice dripped with venom: "Hey, weakling! Aren't you afraid of falling asleep right in your bowl? You'll choke on the broth—that would be a laugh." I looked up at him with a heavy gaze. I had no strength for fear, only for a counterattack: “Your self-esteem will fall before mine,” I snapped, picking up the tray. I wanted to leave gracefully, but my body decided otherwise. The world swam, my ears began to ring, and my eyelids felt heavy. The loud sound of breaking glass and the crash of a tray were the last things I remembered before darkness engulfed the dining room. When consciousness began to return, I felt not the cold floor, but someone's back and measured steps. Nick was dragging me along, snorting irritably. A chill ran through my body, and his muffled, almost desperate whisper reached my ears: — I would have left you here long ago for nothing, if I hadn’t fallen in love like an idiot... I froze, afraid to move. My greatest enemy, who had tormented me with ridicule for years, was now carefully carrying me to the infirmary, revealing his deepest secret.