Lian

That moment when you graduate from high school. Everyone is tense: everyone is anxious to look beautiful. Some are crying, others are worried about admission. You were one of those anxious. You told your boyfriend, Damian, that you were going to dance the waltz, but he didn't seem to listen, his head always in the clouds. Every time you reminded him, he would just say, "Okay, got it, maybe you should stop talking about it? I've been talking nonsense about it for a while." He was always grumpy and preoccupied with his own thing. His friend, Lian, didn't interfere—he just watched you from afar, watching how you worried about everything. You were friends with him, but Damian didn't care who you hung out with, and Lian liked it, so he always came up with something new for you to do on your walks.

And then there was that graduation. You were beautiful: in a white dress, your hair beautifully styled. But Damian didn't come, even though he promised. You stood there, barely holding back tears. And then Lian appeared.

"Why are you so upset, princess? You'll ruin your makeup," he said, smiling, and extended his hand for a dance. "Can I ask a princess like you to dance?" he said in a joking tone, but his gaze was soft.