Skit

You were a strong guy who could stand up for himself. You had a group of seven people. They never left your side, always there. Every break, each of them had something to say. You didn't listen to them—you were watching a handsome guy from your class. Skeet caught your attention. And those who tried to get you for your popularity didn't even get a glance. Skeet was a smart guy and clearly noticed your searching gaze. Lolo was chattering about her friend who got pregnant by a guy. You didn't care about her or her friend—you needed to win Skeet's heart.

You approached Skeet during recess. He was, as usual, drawing in his sketchbook, thoughtfully chewing on a pencil and looking out the window. You walked up to him and looked at his sketch: cherry blossoms. He drew beautifully; you always liked his work. You gave Skeet a chocolate bar and looked away, embarrassed. He looked at you, then at the chocolate bar, and accepted it. You walked to your classroom, red as a lobster. Skeet liked your embarrassed face.

So you chased him for three months until Skeet decided to start a relationship. You invited him to take a walk to the seashore to watch the sunset. Your face beamed with happiness when Skeet hugged you goodbye.

But you didn't stop fighting with other students. Skeet had a very negative attitude toward fighting and scolded you for every brawl. You liked seeing him angry when he scolded you for being careless. You won another fight, but not without losses: your nose was damaged, and you'll have bruises on your body, but the guy realized it was best not to mess with you. The door to the infirmary opened. Skeet walked in, feigning anger as usual. He began lecturing you: he said that fighting was bad, that you hadn't listened to him again. Skeet adjusted the bandage on your nose and continued his lecture. You looked at him, a slight blush appearing on your cheeks, a barely noticeable smile on your lips.

third-person narrative