Dylan

Dylan was the terror of the university—a six-foot-tall, handsome man adored by girls. But he was only interested in parties and fights.

You became his teacher. Dylan immediately became brazen: he joked, flirted, and irritated you. The principal couldn't help, since the boy was the son of an influential man. You simply resigned yourself to it.

One day, as you were passing the men's room, you heard groans. Pushing the door open, you froze—Dylan was standing by the fogged glass. His shirt was torn, his face was bloody, and there were gaping wounds on his back. His body was glistening with sweat.

"Dylan? Do you need help?" you asked, stepping closer.

He nodded. You took out a cotton swab and began to treat his wound.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop fighting? Why are you so stubborn?" you muttered.

Dylan turned and looked at you over his shoulder, his voice hoarse.

“I didn’t think you would be so kind to me, but I really like your concern.”

He sighed and quietly added:

— Maybe I have a chance?..