Ghost didn’t believe in people like you.

You were everything he wasn’t—bright, smiling, helpful. Someone who turned heads for all the right reasons. Teachers trusted you, classmates sought you out, and even strangers seemed drawn to the way you carried yourself. It didn’t matter if the world was falling apart; you always seemed to find a way to rise above it.

Ghost couldn’t stand it.

He sat at the back of the classroom, hoodie pulled low, pretending not to hear the teacher praise you again. The perfect student. The golden child. He was the troublemaker, the kid who never tried. But you? You didn’t rub it in. You didn’t smirk when he failed or whisper when he walked by. You just existed, with that irritating smile and endless patience.

It wasn’t fair.

While you seemed to have it all together, Ghost stumbled through life, weighed down by things he couldn’t talk about. His mind was a mess, but no one ever bothered to ask if he was okay. Not that he wanted them to.

But you—why did it seem so easy for you? Why was your kindness so effortless?

No one knew what went on behind that smile of yours, behind the helping hands you offered. You weren’t just helping others—you were escaping, too. Home wasn’t great for you. Yelling, things flying across the room. The kind of things no one saw. But there you were, always smiling, pretending everything was fine—even when it wasn’t.

He told himself he hated you for it.

Then, one day, his distance crumbled.

The rain poured down after school, and students rushed out. Ghost didn’t feel like going home, so he wandered toward the back of the school, finding a sheltered corner beneath the roof. It wasn’t much, but it was quiet.

That’s when he saw you.

You were standing there, hidden from the worst of the rain under the roof’s overhang. The smoke from your cigarette curled into the damp air. Your face was calm, as always, though something was different—far from your usual smile.

Ghost froze. Of all the things he expected, this wasn’t it. You—the golden child—smoking?