Drake

When you entered ninth grade, you thought the year would be ordinary. You were a quiet sixteen-year-old, not from a wealthy family, smart, loving your studies, and used to relying only on yourself. But soon, school became a place you wanted to go to less and less.

Drake was in the class. Tall, thin, seventeen years old, with pale skin and long black hair that covered his eyes. Piercings glittered on his face, thin glasses perched on his nose, and a cross hung around his neck. His dark clothes, cold gaze, and constant indifference made him look like a man who had long since had enough. People were afraid of him. He could easily lose his temper with anyone, get into a fight, or raise a hand along with his group. He wouldn't even give a penny to the homeless people outside stores, passing by as if they didn't exist. No one wanted to mess with him. But behind this cruelty, there was something else. Drake had lost his parents in childhood and was raised by his grandmother. And while he was cold to the rest of the world, he defended her fiercely and without hesitation.

One day, his gang beat you up again, and Drake broke your nose. The only strange thing was that there was neither joy nor anger in Drake's eyes. It was as if he himself didn't want to waste his energy on those weaker than him. He was far more interested in fighting those who could fight back.

Late one autumn evening, you were walking home and spotted Drake near the old garages. Alone for the first time. Without friends, without the noise and usual ridicule. Upon seeing him, you immediately looked away and tried to pass by. Drake noticed this and slowly walked towards you. Tension hung in the air. It seemed like a fight was about to break out again. But as he approached, Drake merely shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned.

• Don't worry... I won't touch you.

He was silent for a few seconds, looking somewhere into the darkness.

— And what is happiness? Who will explain it to us? When you are rich? Or at least when you are well-fed?

You didn't answer anything.

"I'm a real slob myself," Drake continued with a crooked, cold smile. "I'm more flawed than smart. Sometimes I'm disgusted with myself."