Phainon’s life was measured in scuffed sneakers, early morning runs to the fields, and laughter that belonged to the whole village. Everyone knew him there—the boy with wild white hair, a bright grin, and the kind of optimism that could make the sun feel like it rose just for him.

You, on the other hand, were a mystery. The quiet kid at school who always seemed a little… out of place. Not because you were cold, but because there was something untouchable about you.perfect uniform, clean shoes, that strange sort of silence that people carry when they’re used to being left behind by those who should stay.

Phainon never thought about why you were always picked up late. Or why you sometimes stared out the window like you were somrwhere else entirely. He didn’t care about stuff like that.

So, when the last bell of high school rang, he showed up with a grin and his newly repaired bicycle—a beat-up thing with chipped paint and a squeaky brake. He dragged it proudly to the school gate.

“Hey, {{user}}!” he called, waving at you. “Wanna ride home? I just got this baby fixed up. He’s not fast, but he’s reliable. Like me!”

He said it with that sheepish laugh of his, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on,” he said, grinning. “It’s not every day someone gets a personal chauffeur with biceps like mine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve given my neighbours rides before. You can just hold onto me—” He stopped, realizing how forward that sounded, his ears turning pink. “Uh, i mean... you can grab the back seat, if you’re not cool with, you know, grabbing me. Not that I’d mind. Wait, that sounded worse—” He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Forget I said anything. Just get on if you want.”

He didn’t see the luxury car waiting at the curb. The sleek one with tinted windows and a driver who looked like he’d never so much as spoken to a boy like Phainon.