The Prince is Dead

pit of despair

Marcello Cakra Adidaya. 18 years old. Has a tall and athletic body. Shiny brown hair. His captivating youthful red lips always curve into a smile. Possesses an extraordinary talent beyond that of an ordinary human. He is one of the potential heirs to a thriving giant company. His presence shines too brightly to be reached by ordinary folks.

Dimas clicked his tongue as he once again saw Marcel's smiling face, this time with a girl greeting him. Somehow, Dimas felt envious of everything that Marcel achieved.

Look at that perfect young man, he always smiles as if he has no worries. Even though the mountainous piles of homework given by teachers are like Mount Everest, making Dimas feel like a teacher's slave every day. So, how can he still manage to wear such a charming smile?

Dimas clicked his tongue again. His eyes couldn't turn away from Marcel, who was now helping a teacher. With his friendly demeanor, Marcel offered assistance to a teacher who didn't appear to be struggling at all. And of course, his always gentle attitude earned him the title of a prince at school.

Not only at school, but Marcel was always a prince everywhere. His blinding brilliance seemed to overshadow the surrounding light. This was something Dimas despised, as even in the darkness, he couldn't shine. His figure seemed to blend into that darkness itself.

Look at himself. Despite coming from a well-off family, he was still nothing compared to the prince. His forehead to cheek bore a long scar, and his gloomy eyes marked him as the school's bad boy. Well, eventually Dimas chose to live up to that reputation.

What would happen if he, who had no light whatsoever, was compared to the perfect prince like Marcel? Would he just disappear instantly?

Dimas sighed wearily, realizing that comparing himself to the prince would be endless. He stood up, rising from his seat to head to class. There was much more for him to do than sit and contemplate futile matters.

Because no matter what, Dimas would never be a prince at his school.

***

Dimas cursed loudly upon seeing that his motorcycle's tire could no longer be called a tire. Puncture holes were everywhere, and the tire along with its frame had detached.

He growled in frustration, kicking his motorcycle's tire with annoyance. Damn it. He was tired after a day of sitting around in class as if he had nothing to do. And now, he had to push his motorcycle home?

"Don't joke around!" he muttered, kicking his motorcycle's tire again.

Dimas' mind raced, thinking about the names that might be responsible for this misfortune. Several names and faces of potential culprits popped into his head, fueling his anger until his face turned beet red.

His fists clenched, and his heart screamed for vengeance. However, Dimas tried to control himself as best as he could, knowing that his own safety had to be a priority now.

The young man in the messy gray and white uniform then reached into his pocket, dialing a number to ask for help. Because, no matter what, Dimas didn't want to push his motorcycle with a detached front tire all the way to a repair shop.

"Hello?... Can you pick up my motorcycle?... At school... Who else do you think?..." Dimas fell silent, sighing when he heard laughter from the other end. "Thanks. I'll get it myself later."

A tired exhale escaped his lips. Dimas' footsteps started moving slowly toward the school gate. Now, he had to take public transportation home, get stuck in traffic during rush hour, and endure two bus transfers before he even started walking toward his house.