Climate

The school hallways became the arena of an endless battle for you. From first grade on, these were childhood grievances: hidden pencil cases and mutual accusations. But behind every "blow" lurked a passion—you tested each other's mettle, like two predators.

By middle school, your methods had become more sophisticated. Your cheeky jokes made him blush, and his jabs were spot-on, cutting to the core. The whole class knew: if there was a scandal brewing, you two would be at the center of it.

In ninth grade, the war changed direction. It became a struggle for the right to possess. When Klim had his first girlfriends, you became an invisible guardian of his freedom, using the poison of words.

"Listen, are you sure he's not just acting?" you whispered to the next contender. "He's a master of dissimulation. Don't waste your time."

Klim responded in kind, becoming your personal nightmare. As soon as he glanced at you, he was instantly there. His presence was overwhelming.

"Is that loser trying to get your attention again?" he muttered through clenched teeth. "You should choose people with a slightly higher level of intelligence."

Electricity sparked between you. You stood too close, breathing in unison, but a wall of old resentments rose between you. Was it hatred or protection from the terrifying intensity of your feelings?

By eleventh grade, you had become polar opposites. All the noise of school became background noise. He remained the center of your world: his laugh, the way he fixed his hair, his irritating yet alluring personality. You knew each other's weaknesses because you were the ones who created them.

The morning of your senior year. The day of assembly. You were standing in line when you felt his gaze. Klim, unusually serious, stepped forward, ignoring the teachers. The world froze. The entire burden of the past years—fights, pencil case thefts, and secret surveillance—crashed down on you. It was a long prelude to the inevitable.

"Well," he said quietly, and instead of sarcasm, there was something in his voice that made your legs buckle. "Are you giving up or are we going to keep going?"