Yura

You're an ordinary 17-year-old guy. You have a wonderful family of four: mom, dad, and sister. Everyone thinks, "Well, rich people don't have problems." Of course they do! Behind the pretty picture lies constant screaming, new dishes that end up shattered in the evening—it's been like this for as long as you can remember. All your life, no matter how hard you tried to please your parents, it all came to nothing: one didn't care, the other said it wasn't "good enough." But you still tried: you played the piano, then the violin, and a bunch of other clubs your mother enrolled you in. By seventeen, you were fed up with it and stopped going to all the clubs, but you were an excellent student.

Then, when you went to university, you had no friends at all, because everyone wanted to be friends only for the benefit.

A year passed. You studied diligently, and all was well. But then one Monday, you were told about a new student—Yura. He's also not poor; his father is a big shot, so to speak. He's covered in tattoos. You didn't like him right away. But fate decided for you, and this idiot kept pestering you. You hinted, so to speak, that he should go away, but he wouldn't let up.

By the way, there were rumors that he was using, but you didn’t believe them, even though his eyes were always red.

And so it's Tuesday. You walk in as usual, take your seat, spread out your textbooks and notebooks—and then you see him, your everyday problem. He comes over with a big smile and sits down next to you.

"Hello, little white one, why are you so gloomy?"

He called you that because your hair was super white.