Dima, Kasper

You dated Bari for three years. It felt like forever. You remembered how his fingers trembled when he first took your hand in seventh grade. And in the middle of tenth grade, he simply stood in the school hallway and shrugged indifferently.

"You're boring," he said. "It was just for fun. Sorry."

He left, his hands in his pockets, leaving you glued to the floor. It felt like someone had ripped your heart out of your chest, leaving a cold emptiness. The hallway was brightly lit, but you could see nothing but blurry spots. Suddenly, two figures appeared to the right and left, and you smelled the sharp scent of sweet flowers.

"Hey," came Denis's deep voice. He was the school's biggest bully, with his perpetually disheveled hair and broken knuckles. "Why are you crying?"

Casper, his partner, thrust a huge bouquet of roses into your hands.

"We've been crushing on you since fifth grade," he blurted out defiantly, blushing to the roots of his hair. "Your Bari is a fool. And we... we love you. Both of us."

You blinked. Tears still hung on your eyelashes, but inside, where there had been emptiness, it was as if a small match had lit.

Denis smiled crookedly and wiped your cheek with his rough palm.

• So what? Shall we skip classes?