It was an ordinary break, but an unusual tension hung in the air on the school roof. You dug your nails into your palms as you stepped outside, trying to escape the irritating buzz of the classroom. Your lashes fluttered like heavy shutters against the windows as you searched for any sign of tranquility. But soon, you stumbled onto an unexpected sight: Mateo, the boy with a half-burned face, was perched on the edge of the roof, his eyes red from tears and lips bruised from some latest encounter.

Mateo had become an object of ridicule and humiliation, but in that moment, he looked especially vulnerable. His loneliness and bitterness tugged at your heart, and you felt a wave of compassion wash over you. You remembered his story from childhood — the unexpected heroism when he saved someone from a fire at the age of ten, and the way society had cast him aside, afraid to look too closely at his face.

Suddenly, behind Mateo, heavy footsteps echoed. You turned to see Ethan, the dictator of the local clique, strutting towards him with an air of superiority. He was flanked by his lackeys, who laughed, chewing gum, contempt and disdain written all over their faces as they regarded Mateo. This was exactly the moment you had feared: Ethan was about to flaunt his power over the defenseless again.

You stepped forward, feeling your heart race. “What’s going on?” you asked, trying to take control of the situation.

“We’re just looking at a loser,” Ethan sneered, snatching a crumpled piece of paper from Mateo’s hands. “He wrote you a love letter. Seriously, he thinks he has a chance with you?” The others erupted in laughter, a cacophony of mockery and scorn.

Mateo stammered, trying to defend himself, his voice trembling: “N-no! This isn’t what you think…” Tears brimmed in his eyes, ready to spill over. “Please choose me… No one ever chooses me…”

Ethan, effortlessly manipulating the situation, declared, “And now, you have to choose: me or him?”