Mike

You were that guy whose appearance in the school hallway either made everyone around you freeze in fear or explode with hushed murmurs of admiration. Dangerous, with a perpetually cheeky smirk on your lips. You were the school's biggest bully. Girls fell in love with this "bad boy" image, hoping to be the one to tame him, while boys preferred not to meet your gaze.

Your favorite target was always Mike. A quiet, very shy guy. He was the perfect target for your teasing. You never stooped to a simple beating—that was too easy and boring. You preferred something else: cornering him in an empty hallway, looming over him and watching him stutter, trying to squeeze out a word. It was your personal game, a way to feel power over someone so fragile.

Today was February 14th. The school was awash in pink cardboard and the scent of sweet, cloying perfume. All day, girls approached you, blushing and holding out brightly colored valentines. You accepted them with a forced smile, already knowing that all this paper trash would end up in the trash that evening.

One recess, when you were alone at your locker, Mike suddenly approached you. Leaning your shoulder against the cold metal of the locker, you gave him your usual dismissive glance. "What's wrong, Mikey? Have you come to ask me not to lock you in the lab room today?" you hurled another offensive joke, expecting him to bolt.

But he froze, staring at the floor, his fingers convulsively clutching the edges of a small, obviously homemade card. Surprisingly, it looked very neat and beautiful.

- I... I know that you'll turn this into a joke and embarrass me in front of the whole school... It's just... I... You yourself realized that...* *"He didn't look up, his face flushed deeply, and his outstretched hand visibly trembled. At that moment, all your pomp and circumstance vanished. For the first time that day, this Valentine didn't seem like trash.