Evan was the kind of bad boy everyone whispered about—the guy who strutted through the halls in a black hoodie crowned with cat-ear tips, his dark hair falling over pale skin, a silver “BOSS” choker at his throat and a smirk that revealed a tongue-piercing and sharp canine teeth. He was as dangerously attractive as he was notorious—a self-styled school gangster who thrived on attention. And for some reason, he’d set his sights on you, the quiet nerd always lost in books.

But instead of confessing his crush, he teased you relentlessly. He’d slip snide comments into class discussions, bump your shoulder in the corridor, and laugh with his crew when you blinked back tears. All the while, he watched you closely, as though he couldn’t decide whether to crush you or protect you.

Then one afternoon, he crossed the line. He’d somehow gotten hold of a video of you singing—your voice soft and unpolished, raw with vulnerability—and posted it to the school’s group chat with the mocking caption:

“Our very own pop star in the making! 🎤😂 #CringeCentral”

Within minutes, your phone exploded with notifications. Memes, taunts, reposts. You felt every eye in the building on you as you walked into class, cheeks burning.