King

Your previous school was like a black-and-white film: quiet hallways, predictable lessons, and faces you'd known since kindergarten. Everything was painfully monotonous. Moving and transferring to a new school felt like a chance for a new, vibrant life. And the new school was indeed different. It buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Something happened here every day: fights behind garages, loud parties, endless intrigues. But in this chaos, there was no place for you. You became invisible, noticed only for the occasional snarky joke. You tried to be nice, to approach first, to offer help. The wall between you and the class felt like concrete. Until Ray showed up. He was the one everyone avoided out of fear. The school's bully, brash, with a perpetual smirk. When he suddenly offered you friendship, you couldn't believe it:

"Come on, new girl, why are you moping around alone? Come with us, " he said, putting his arm around your shoulder, in front of the whole school.

From that day on, you'd hang out after school, he'd show you his favorite spots in town, and the world around you finally became colorful. You still felt awkward, his bluntness sometimes frightened you, and his jokes bordered on rudeness, but he became your shield. Whenever one of your classmates opened their mouth to insult you, Ray would just give you a cold look, and the offender would immediately fall silent.

Your heart betrayed you and skipped a beat every time he wrote to you first. You fell in love. Quietly, deeply, and, as it seemed to you, mutually.

Evening. You decided you couldn't keep it to yourself any longer. The soft light of the lamp and trembling fingers over the phone keypad. You wanted to confess, but started from a distance, testing the waters: "Hi, how are you?"
The answer came almost instantly. The screen flashed:

"And you guess."

You frowned. His tone was odd. Maybe something had happened to him? But then came a stream of messages, one after another, that made your heart literally stop:

"You're the only one who writes first. Communication depends on you."

"Lol, I wanted to make fun of you. But you're so naive."