Before I became his story

FLASHBACK

It was 4:00 p.m. when Evanna returned to the hostel after vacation. The building smelled the same—a mix of old wood, ink, and faint detergent—but something felt different.

“Did you hear?” Aria, one of her friends, practically bounced as she walked beside her. “About the new guy?”

Evanna shot her a look, shifting her duffle bag on her shoulder. “What new guy?”

“There’s this transfer student,” chimed in another friend, Maya. “He’s… you won’t believe it. In just a few days, he’s already got every girl in school falling over him.”

Evanna rolled her eyes. “Seriously? It’s the middle of the session. Who transfers now?”

“No one knows why,” Maya shrugged. “He just showed up one day. His name’s Adrian Sinclair.”

Evanna frowned, more out of mild curiosity than interest. People who transferred mid-year usually had baggage—academic trouble, family drama, or worse. And she wasn’t about to get tangled in anyone’s mess.

“I guess he’s beautiful,” Aria added with a dreamy sigh.

Evanna smirked. “Pretty faces don’t fix grades.”

They all laughed, and soon Evanna excused herself. She climbed the old staircase to the study hall on the second floor, intending to unpack her books before dinner. Her mind was already ticking through her to-do list when noise from the TV room caught her attention.

Curiosity tugged at her. She glanced in as she passed by.

The room was crowded, students crammed onto old couches and bean bags, all eyes glued to the TV. But it wasn’t the show they were watching that caught Evanna’s eye.

It was him.

Sitting in the corner, like he couldn’t care less about the chaos around him. A boy with messy black hair, slouched posture, and a black mask covering half his face. He wore it indoors, even here in the hostel. His hood was up, shadowing most of his features. But even so, Evanna could tell there was something… off.

She paused for a heartbeat, eyebrows knitting together.

“What an idiot,” she muttered under her breath.

Who the hell wears a mask inside the hostel? Trying to be edgy or something?

Shaking her head, she moved on. She had better things to do.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

Perfect. Let’s lead on—slow burn, steady tension. We’ll build the atmosphere, hint at their connection before it snaps into place.

Over the next few days, Evanna settled back into routine. Classes, study hall, meals. Life moved predictably, the way she liked it.

Except for him.

Adrian Sinclair.

He was everywhere without really being there.

She’d pass him in the corridors—always with that mask, hands stuffed in his pockets, a permanent slouch in his walk. He barely spoke. And yet, people talked about him constantly.

The girls whispered.

The boys watched warily.

The teachers seemed to ignore him like he wasn’t worth the trouble… or maybe they were scared.

Evanna didn’t care. At least that’s what she told herself.

But one night, close to curfew, she found herself in the common area by the vending machine, fishing for a late snack. She heard the soft click of a lighter before she saw him.

Adrian sat on the windowsill, legs dangling out, a cigarette balanced loosely between his fingers. He wasn’t smoking it, just rolling it back and forth, like it was something familiar in a world he didn’t quite trust.

He didn’t notice her. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care.

Evanna hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her snack and turned to leave.

“You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

The words were quiet. Sharp enough to stop her in her tracks.

She turned halfway. “What?”

“You keep looking at me like I’m dumb,” he said. His voice was rough. Not from arrogance, but wear. Tear. Smoke.

Like he’d been breathing in things that burned for far too long.

Evanna blinked. “I don’t think about you at all.”

Adrian chuckled. Dry. Like he didn’t believe her.

He flicked the lighter again, the tiny flame flaring then vanishing. “That’s worse.”

They stayed like that for a moment.

Her by the vending machine, him by the window.

Two strangers in a place that wasn’t home for either of them.

“Why the mask?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Adrian turned his head slightly. His eyes found hers over the dark fabric.

“Because people get uncomfortable when they see someone who doesn’t fake it.”

She didn’t answer.

She wasn’t sure she could.

Word spread fast in the hostel.

Adrian Sinclair got beaten up. Again.

This time, not by students—but by a teacher.

Evanna overheard the whispers in the mess hall the next morning.

“Did you hear? Mr. Ramesh lost it on him.”

“Apparently Adrian was back-talking in class…”

“…they said he shoved a desk, broke the leg off.”

She barely glanced up from her plate.

Section C drama. It wasn’t her problem.

And yet…

Later that day, during lunch break, she caught sight of him.

He sat alone in the far corner of the courtyard. Hoodie up. Mask on. One hand in his pocket, the other clutching an ice pack to the side of his face.

No one went near him.

The school had rules. Zero tolerance for violence. But everyone knew teachers got away with things, especially with kids like him.

The ‘problem students’.

The ones no one fought for.

Evanna told herself she didn’t care.

She picked at her food, kept her head down.

But her chest felt tight in a way she didn’t like.

---

Later That Evening — Hostel Corridor

Evanna was heading back to her room when she noticed it.

A small smear of blood on the stair rail.

And a trail of faint scuff marks, like someone had been dragged.

She paused. Looked up.

Adrian was slumped against the wall near the fire escape.

Mask off.

His face was a mess. A split lip. A bruise blooming dark along his cheekbone. There was something about the way he sat there—like he wasn’t even surprised. Like he expected it.

He noticed her staring.

For a second, neither of them moved.

“Now you know,” he said quietly.

His voice was hoarse.

“Why I wear the damn mask.”

Evanna swallowed hard.

But she said nothing.

Just turned and kept walking.

She didn’t stop thinking about him for the rest of the night....

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