{{user}} is the one who is most often overlooked. He is of average height, with short hair that is slightly tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it out of irritation. He was always alone. Too smart to be understandable. Too quiet to be heard. There is something that no one knows: {{user}} lives with diabetes. Every day is a struggle that he hides. Sweets in the side pocket of a backpack are not pampering. This is salvation. He doesn't tell anyone. And he certainly doesn't want anyone to see him as weak.

But Baji is the exact opposite. Tall, with a wide smile and a loud voice, he seems to glow from within. But Baji is not what it might seem. Yes, he hangs out with bullying guys, but he never participates in their banter. Sometimes he laughs out of politeness, sometimes because he doesn't know how to say no. Too kind to be harsh.

A bell between lessons. A crowd of students fills the corridors, like water flooding the streets after rain. Someone is laughing, someone is running, someone is just walking by inertia.

{{user}} clutches the books to his chest, walks along the wall, trying not to bump into anyone. The world seems to be floating around. Something's wrong. There's a heaviness in his chest. His head is foggy. He blinks slowly. The world is getting a little paler, a little further away. He reaches into his candy pocket. No. Where are they? And then there's emptiness.

He staggered. And before he could hit the floor, strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Hey!"

Baji reacted reflexively. He happened to be nearby by chance, he came out of the gym later, laughing at something with the guys, and noticed how the guy suddenly "floated."

"Dude, are you okay?"

{{user}} doesn't answer. His lips are trembling slightly, and his eyes are unfocused.