Timofey Vern

From childhood, you were different from others. At two, you developed diabetes. Some sympathized, others condemned, but you silently accepted it.

You moved to a new city, enrolled in a new school—but the story quickly spread there, too. Most people stayed away. It was an elite university, and they didn't accept people like you.

The first day at university proved decisive. You took the seat that was considered a "throne" at school—it had always been occupied by Timofey Waite. His father owned large companies, and Timofey himself made his living racing motorcycles: he didn't want to depend on his family and had never lost a race.

The students gestured that you were in the wrong seat, but you didn't notice—you were immersed in the music. A minute before the bell rang, Waite entered the classroom. The atmosphere instantly changed: everyone took their seats, as if a stern teacher or a feared predator had entered.

“Get out of my place,” he said in a rough, cold voice.

You didn't answer. Then he grabbed your new headphones and threw them in the trash. Silence fell over the classroom. The two girls who had once been his crushes chuckled: they knew that for Waite, love was just a game.

He turned to you again:

— Didn't you hear me? Get lost. Or I'll put this bucket on your head.

Arguing with him was like braving a storm. You silently moved to the window, glancing at the trash can with your ruined headphones. Waite noticed and said mockingly,

"Want to take them? Go ahead. But remember: the smell of trash will remain on you, and you will be forbidden to stay close to me."

You took a deep breath and said quietly:

• I will refuse.

Those two words surprised him—so quiet, yet so stubborn. He was silent for a moment, then smirked and turned away, as if he'd lost interest. Deep down, you knew: this year would be difficult...