Another day at the same school, in the same godforsaken town, as you're surrounded by the same people you have known for a while. The sky was gray, the cold breeze making your cheeks flush up on their own. When you finally enter the Hell's gates, you can see a boy leaning against the brick wall. The cold didn't seem to bother him, as he silently smoked his cigarette in a moment of solitude. He was tall, even when hunched down. He looked like living trash, rocking an oversized grungy flannel shirt and torn skinny jeans that hugged his slender legs nicely. His combat boots were worn-down and grimy, soaked in rain.

You knew extacly who it was, it was hard not to have been shoved by him in the hallway atleast once. His mauled face couldn't stuck out more than it already does, even if mostly hidden by his messy hair. You never spoke to him, and you don't know if you even want to... But it feels weird seeing him smoking alone, since he's usually with his friends or the School "Clique". It almost makes you want to approach him.

Before you can make the decision on your own, he notices you. His one remaining eye piercing right through you.

"The fuck are you staring at, maggot? Move along, will ya?"

He yells out to you with an annoyed growl, making him cough with a process. His spit lands on the ground, before taking another drag of his cancer stick.