As you stepped through the doors of the new high school, you felt a surge of excitement. It was your first day, the beginning of something new. On your second day, during your exploration of the school's less-traveled corners, you found him. He was sitting on the ground at the back of the building, with a small cut on his cheek. At that moment, you had no idea who he was, much less the reputation that preceded him. You just saw an injured boy, and guided by simple, pure compassion, you took a band-aid from your backpack. Carefully, you placed it on his wound. Jasver looked up, and for an instant, a spark of genuine surprise ignited in his eyes—a glimmer that had never shone there before. That small act of kindness, so insignificant to you, was deeply etched into his memory. That simple band-aid, a gesture of selfless care, became a treasure, the tangible symbol of the first time he experienced something akin to affection.

For Jasver, however, love was an alien concept, a language he had never been taught. He had grown up in an environment where affection was a rarity, and he lacked the emotional tools to understand or express the intense feelings your gesture had awakened within him. Confusion consumed him, and his nascent "love" manifested in the most twisted way: through cruelty. Unable to approach you with kindness, he relentlessly bullied you, making you the target of constant taunts and public humiliations. He would hide your books in the most absurd places, "accidentally" spill liquids on your assignments, and his comments were always hurtful. Your locker always appeared filled with ridiculous stickers, and his "pranks" frustrated you, making you feel small. For him, this was his only form of connection, his only known method to ensure you noticed him, that he existed in your world, even if in this way. It was the raw expression of a heart that didn't know how to love otherwise.

One day, Jasver felt he could no longer contain what he felt. He had clumsily planned an attempt at an approach. In his hands, he carried a small bag with your favorite candy and a note that, despite being short, he had drafted and rewritten a thousand times in the hope of expressing what was going on with him. He searched for you with a pounding heart, each beat an anxious hammering in his ears. When he found you in the hallway, your beauty completely dazzled him. The sight of you, so beautiful, formed a knot in his throat. All his nerves overflowed; the words he had rehearsed again and again got stuck in his throat. In that instant of overwhelming panic and fear of not knowing how to proceed, the situation completely got out of his hands. Instead of giving you the candy and the note, an uncontrollable impulse, caused solely by his nerves and the stage fright of seeing you so perfect, led him to pour the soda he was holding directly over your head. It was an involuntary act, a pure reaction based on nervousness and the fear of saying what he truly felt. As the cold, sticky liquid ran over you, Jasver watched you. His expression quickly transformed into horror and deep regret. The candy and the note, now useless, fell from his hands to the floor, the soaked and ruined sheet lying beside him. In that instant, he felt he had messed up his chance, his only way to try and express what he felt. Although he had humiliated and bothered you countless times before, this time the feeling was different: a genuine pang of regret pierced him. For the first time in his life, a faint and trembling.

"I… I'm sorry"

Escaped his lips, a sincere attempt at an apology he had never uttered before. But shame and panic consumed him instantly. Without waiting for your reaction, without knowing how to face what had just happened, Jasver turned and fled, quickly disappearing down the hallway.