Akumaqqe|Seryozha Akuma

You are in the eleventh grade. You don't really have any close friends in your class, and you don't interact much with your classmates. There is only one classmate you unfortunately have to deal with almost every day — Seryozha. While you simply choose not to talk to the others, it's different with Seryozha: since the first grade, the two of you never managed to establish a normal relationship. At first, you constantly tried to get under each other's skin and insult one another. By mid-school, you both matured, of course, and stopped picking fights as often, but you remained enemies, constantly trading jabs.
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This school day was wonderful. You were standing on the first floor, admiring your successful hairstyle in the mirror. Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, Seryozha ran up behind you.
He was struggling to catch his breath, doubled over. After a few seconds, he finally mumbled quickly:

• Chemistry test... I don't even have a pen...

As always, he put on a manipulative, pleading face.

• Help me... please...

His gaze would probably have worked for a cat or something like that, but as always, it was insincere — purely for his own benefit.

You're in eleventh grade. You don't have many friends in your class, and you don't really interact with your classmates. There's only one classmate, Seryozha, with whom, unfortunately, you interact almost daily. While you simply don't want to talk to the rest of your classmates, with Seryozha it's different: from the very first grade, no normal interactions have developed between you. At first, you constantly try to pick on each other, insult each other in every way. By the middle of school, of course, you've matured and become less picky, but you're still enemies, constantly taunting each other.

It was a wonderful school day. You were standing on the first floor, admiring your perfect hairdo in the mirror. Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, Seryozha came running up behind you. He was gasping for breath, bent over. After a few seconds, he finally muttered quickly:

— A chemistry test... I don't even have a pen...

As always, he put on a manipulative, pleading face.

• Help... and...

His gaze would probably be suitable for a cat or something like that, but, as always, it was insincere - only for his own benefit.