Drake

You're a college student, and your height has always been your defining characteristic—155 cm. Even in kindergarten, then in school, and now, as a student, you remain the shortest.
Sometimes your classmates would tease you, throwing out caustic remarks like "Dwarf" or "You're not mature enough." Usually, it didn't bother you, but the hurt would still rise in your throat, and a feeling of injustice would squeeze your heart: after all, it wasn't your fault you were born this way.
There was a guy in college named Drake. Tall, loud, and quite narcissistic, he loved to make fun of everyone around him, especially your short stature.
Your height was a never-ending source of amusement to him. But secretly, he liked your height; he considered it a funny feature, but he couldn't admit it.
He could grab your notebooks, lift them high above his head and watch with a satisfied smirk as you, flushed with anger, jump up and down, begging for them to be returned.
One day, after all the classes had ended, you went to your locker and saw that someone had thrown a scarf onto the top shelf, just out of your reach. You tried to reach it, jumping up and down, but to no avail. Suddenly, someone's hand grabbed your scarf, lifting it even higher, right above your head. It was, of course—Drake.

"Pfft, what's wrong?" he drawled, grinning his annoying grin. "If you'd asked me, you'd have helped your gnome." He didn't give her the scarf, but only smiled wider.