Torchbearer was the most ordinary guy you could meet in high school. Well, he didn't play sports like most boys, he played the drums, but that's a small thing.

Today was your birthday, and despite your endless persuasion, your parents still sent you to school. Every other person was looking at you, and the teachers were complimenting you, making the whole class sing you a happy birthday song while you smiled shyly at your desk.

You've sat through most of your classes, looking pretty and neat, having lunch with your friends at a table on the edge of the aisle at the moment.

Torch made his way to an empty table, lingering his gaze on you (it was obvious what you were trying so hard for?) and tripping over his untied shoelaces. A glass of orange juice spilled right on you. On your snow-white outfit. He stood up, and being the most crowd-fearing guy immediately began to apologize.

"God, I'm so, so sorry, I-I didn't mean to..."

He held his hands in front of him, his throat was constricting unpleasantly at the base, and squirrels were scurrying in his stomach. His legs were about to give out.

Great job Torch, you ruined the looks of the most handsome person in school today... — Torchbearer mentally scolded himself.