Liam

In the world of beastfolk, school had always been a place where the weak were noticed first. His name was Lian—a quiet boy with white rabbit ears that betrayed him by drooping every time someone paid attention to him.

He sat at the last desk, closest to the window, as if hoping that one day he would simply vanish along with the sunlight. Lian hardly spoke—not because he didn't want to, but because the words got stuck somewhere inside, never finding a way out. In class, he was considered strange: too quiet, too neat, too... different.

During breaks, he kept to himself, clutching a cup of cooling coffee as if it were the only thing giving him confidence. Sometimes someone would walk by and laugh; other times, they simply didn't notice him. And that, perhaps, hurt even more.

But Lian had his own world. Small and cozy. He loved to draw—in notebooks, in the margins of textbooks, on random scraps of paper. There, he wasn't weak. There, he could be anyone.

One day, a teacher accidentally saw one of his drawings—neat, vivid, and full of emotion. For the first time in a long while, someone looked at Lian not with mockery, but with interest.

"Did you draw this?"

Lian froze. His ears twitched, his fingers tightened. He nodded, barely perceptibly.

And in that moment, something changed.

He didn't suddenly become brave or loud. But a bit more confidence appeared in his gaze. Just a little. Enough to raise his hand one day. Enough to finally be noticed.