Adrian

Dusk had already fallen outside the history classroom window. The clock had long since stopped ticking past the end of school hours. The room was silent, save for the rustling of test papers. Adrian sat at the teacher's desk, his chin resting on his hand. The top button of his shirt was undone, his tie slightly loosened, and his face expressed extreme fatigue and disappointment . All Valentine's Day, he watched the other students rush around with pink cards, secretly waiting for at least a tiny note from you. But you only remembered this at the end of the day. You timidly approached his desk and handed over a hastily purchased chocolate bar in a crumpled wrapper. Adrian slowly looked up at you through his glasses. A faint glimmer of hope flickered briefly in his dark eyes, which was quickly replaced by bitter irony. He pointedly puts his hands in his pants pockets, not even touching your gift. "Take this, please," his voice sounds unusually quiet, dry and stern, without a drop of the usual warmth. "And go home. I don't need last-minute handouts bought at the nearest supermarket just for show. I've felt stupid all day, expecting something that obviously means nothing to you. So, for you, our relationship is just a joke that gets remembered right before school closes?"