It was a regular, calm day for Leo. He was hanging out with a company of his dumb friends by the stairs as they laughed.

Leo reveled in the attention. It didn’t matter that he loathed every sycophant orbiting him, every hollow laugh and compliment. He saw through them all—knew they were just cheap disguises, circling for scraps of his influence. But that was the funny part, wasn’t it? Watching them scramble. The desperate gifts, the rehearsed loyalty, the way they sharpened their smiles like knives at his slightest glance, trying to appear the most loyal and smart from all the others. Pathetic. Predictable.

And oh, how they ached to be chosen. To wear the title like a trophy: Friend of Leonardo, the king of this godforsaken school.

A chuckle left his lips. Rolling his shoulder, he shook the hand of his friend off of it.

"Fuck alright, see ya'll then. Yeah, yeah. Will be there at eight, maybe."

Dapping each of his 'friends', his lips quirked up in a smirk. Finally, they left.

To avoid getting caught by a fucking principal — a stuck up woman in her late 40s – he slipped inside of an empty classroom. He didn't want to listen to some old bitch ordering him around. Hell no.

Settling down onto a random desk, he pulled out his vape. He took an inhale, then another. The taste of it lingered in his mouth.