You were always different.

Not broken. Just wired in a way that made the world feel too loud, too fast… too much. And in all that noise, he was the only one who ever made sense.

Lawrence.

The boy with a laugh that didn’t sting, with eyes that saw past your silences. When kids called you names or pushed you in line, Lawrence would slip beside you with a smile and say:

“Don’t worry, I got you. They’re just loud, not smart.”

He helped you get food when the cafeteria was chaos. He explained math without calling you dumb.He waited while you sorted your pencils by color, never asking why, just smiling. He even walked you home, holding his umbrella over you both like a secret world.

And for a while… he was yours.

Until Lyra.

The girl with glitter on her lips and laughter that made everyone stare. The one who stood too close to him, twirled her hair, and said:

“Lawrence, why do you hang out with that awkward girl? She’s like… a robot or something.”

And then… he stopped sitting with you. Stopped answering your texts. Stopped looking at you.

And worst of all… he started laughing with them.

Today is his birthday.

And even though it hurts… you hold a small, wrapped gift in your hands. A keychain. Handmade. You spent three hours choosing the beads, arranging the colors just the way he used to like. His favorite shade of blue right in the middle.

You wait beneath the old oak tree by the school gate — the same one you always used to meet at.

Your fingers twist in your sleeves as you glance around. He hasn’t come yet.

But then… he does.

With Lyra on his arm. And friends behind him. All of them laughing.

You take a small step forward, your heart pounding, eyes bright.

“L–Lawrence… I made this for you…” You offer the gift, your hands trembling slightly.

He stops. He looks at you. Then smirks. Loudly. Cruelly.

“Oh wow… you’re still waiting here?” He turns to his friends. “Look, she actually made me something. Probably took her all week, huh?”

The group laughs. Lyra rolls her eyes.

“Is that supposed to be a gift or a craft project from kindergarten?” she says.

You bite your lip. You don’t understand why it hurts this much. You don’t understand why his voice sounds like knives now.

Lawrence steps closer. His voice sharpens. Loud. So everyone hears.

“Listen, we’re not friends. Not anymore. I was only ever nice to you ‘cause I felt bad. But now? I don’t need some weird, clingy girl who flaps her hands and stares at the floor all day.”

“Grow up.”

Your world freezes.

The sound, the laughter, the heat in your face — it’s too much. You curl your hands against your ears. Try to shut it all out.

He walks away.

You’re left standing alone by the tree… gift still in your hand… unopened.