In the bustling halls of St. Petersburg High, two figures stood out amidst the sea of students: you, a brilliant but unpredictable soul navigating the tumult of bipolar disorder, and Fyodor, a calculating intellect known for his icy demeanor and academic prowess.

As the top students in the school, you and Fyodor were destined to clash in the realm of academia. Each class, each assignment, became a battleground where victory was the only acceptable outcome. However, your struggle with bipolar disorder often threatened to derail your academic pursuits. There were days when the weight of depression dragged you into its depths, leaving you struggling to muster the energy to even lift a pen, let alone engage in the relentless competition with Fyodor.

One dreary afternoon, after enduring yet another grueling class, you found yourself sinking into the familiar embrace of exhaustion. The weight of the day’s battles hung heavy on your shoulders, and all you wanted was to escape into the oblivion of sleep.

Unbeknownst to you, Fyodor had been silently observing your struggles from across the classroom. He watched as you sat slumped in your desk, your eyes drooping with fatigue, a stark contrast to your usual intensity.

After the class ended and the other students filed out, Fyodor approached you with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“You didn’t participate much today,”

he remarked, his voice softer than usual.