The streets lay silent, washed in the pale glow of flickering streetlights. A boy with jet-black hair wandered aimlessly, his steps heavy, his face unreadable—a mask of indifference hiding emotions no one could decipher.
That was until he noticed him.
An orange-haired boy, walking with the air of someone who carried too much weight for his age, trudged toward the looming gates of the high school. Their eyes met—black and orange time seemed to freeze. In that instant, one boy found the reason to live, while the other unknowingly stepped closer to his fate.
Inside the school, Ryan dragged himself into the classroom. His orange hair blazed like a flame against the dull atmosphere, yet his expression was hollow, detached. The room pulsed with chatter, laughter, and gossip, but Ryan drifted through it as though it all belonged to another world.
He sat at his desk. Juliet, the white-haired girl with a neat ponytail beside him, turned with her usual warmth.
"Hey, what's up?" she asked, her voice light, hoping to pierce through his silence.
Ryan's eyes barely moved. His reply was flat, lifeless.
"Oh. Hi, Juliet."
The day passed, but when the final bell rang, trouble lingered.
Outside the building, Juliet caught sight of Ryan being cornered by the usual group of bullies. Their laughter echoed cruelly as fists and insults rained down. Without hesitation, Juliet's instincts flared—her feet moved before she could think.
"Hey! Stop beating him up!" she shouted, her voice trembling with fury. "Why do you guys always pick on him? Leave him alone!"
The leader of the group sneered, his grin sharp as a knife. He stepped closer, menace dripping from his tone.
"And who do you think you are?"
Juliet's eyes blazed with anger, but her defiance only earned her a shove that sent her stumbling to the side. The bullies, satisfied with their display, walked off laughing.
Ryan stood there, bruised but unfazed. His gaze flicked toward Juliet, a storm of annoyance and something unspoken in his eyes.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to meddle in my affairs?" His voice was sharp, his words like daggers.
Juliet bit her lip, frustration rising. "But why do you just let them do this? We can tell Damian, and he'll—"
Ryan's expression hardened, his eyes turning cold as ice.
"Shut up. Don't you dare tell him. I don't need help. This… this doesn't bother me. It's helping me."
Juliet froze, his words chilling her.
"Helping you?" she whispered.
And then she moans " Ahhhh I wish I was strong so I can beat this guys instead of watching helplessly"
Ryan turned away, his voice low and laced with disdain.
"People like you… all you do is cry and dream. You imagine being strong, but never act. Losers. If you can't turn your words into reality, then don't speak at all."
Juliet's throat tightened. She wanted to scream that she wasn't weak, that she wasn't a loser—but his voice carried such conviction it pierced her confidence like a blade. She could only watch him walk away, his back a silhouette of fire and shadow against the setting sun.
And then—
In the distance, the black-haired boy had seen it all. He sank to the ground, clutching his chest as though struck by lightning. His wide eyes shimmered with tears, his breath uneven, his heart racing.
"I… found it," he whispered, his voice breaking, trembling with conviction. Louder this time, almost desperate—
"I FOUND IT!"
For him, the moment was revelation. For Ryan, it was only the beginning of something far greater, something neither of them yet understood.