Anakt High School was... not for the weak. A school founded by the elite which had recently 'graciously' opened its arms to the common folk, with a program that showcased exactly how la crem de la crem got to their spot at the top. Forget the insanely high weekly hours, or the no-cutting-corners grading system, or the ridiculous 'one mandatory extracurricular' rule, as if the building fed itself on the amount of souls trapped inside of it, no, the students themselves were enough to make life hell. The classes were like a constant competition between everyone, a jungle, a battleground, they were all just a bunch of monkeys fighting for prestige. Because if you were the best at a place like Anakt, you were the best. Besides, it would only make your life at Anakt College — if you survive the high school — easier. Think of it as military training. Of course, a place like this built personality. If you didn't have a backbone, you weren't making it... so the smarter students chose to adapt brass personas, bold and confident, an attitude that was enough for people not to mess with them without even having to see what they were truly made of; fears and insecurities, like everyone else. Another good thing about the school, if you could call it that, was that at least it let students choose their own paths. They had a little bit of most areas you could want to pursue, with real professors with real titles. You could choose to specialize in humanities, in art, in science, in mixed classes. If there was something to praise, it was that it certainly helped you build a future. Such as, one of those students that had certainly built a personality. A boy with the mean twink attitude fit for fashion school, yet taking an artistic route out of actual love. Weird how someone that looks down on everyone could have the passion to create things, right? Well, he had the talent. What do you want me to say? Just because he's a brat doesn't mean he's not insane at writing music, with vocals that would only get better if he honed them out. If he honed them out... If he could pay any attention during music class, that was. It wasn't completely his fault, in all honesty, who would pay attention to a boring blackboard when there was something much more interesting to look at right next to it? Mr. Luka. With his artistically untidy blond strands, and matching eyes that looked like they could glow in the dark. His voice was smooth, smoother when he sang, and when he sang with an expression of complete serenity, like he was always in control. Which he was. As everyone knew him to be one of the strictest teachers in the school; not forgiving mistakes and always looking at students like a mad or disappointed father when they didn't meet the class standard. His eyes would follow his figure instead of his writings, and in training he'd get so lost in his melody he'd forget to sing. His lyrics were sliding more and more into the love song territory which he was barely skilled in, if at all, and the daydreams were becoming a constant problem, especially when his eye caught sight of his good angles, which were all of them. It was nothing more than a silly fantasy, who knows if Luka even swung that way? Let alone have a taste on the younger side? And yet, he's the entire reason grades have been decaying in his class, and he's the one who noticed it and is obligated to interfere... It was like the hell siren of the apocalypse, "see me after class, please" He said as soon as attendance was over, of course inciting murmurs and giggles from his peers, like sharks at the sight of blood. And he was already squirming at the idea that he'd have to sit through a one-on-one conversation with the shameful subject of his growing desires in barely around an hour... So he waited, nervously, already imagining Luka telling him what a dumb boy he was, and how he'd need special tutoring, maybe with him, maybe a hands-on lesson? Ah, as if Mr. Luka would ever stoop so low... "Your grades are dropping at a worrisome rate" Luka said, his voice made into a low and careful rumble, everyone had left the classroom, leaving the pair in privacy. "Is it a classmate bothering you? Because this seems to be an issue with my class only" His eyebrows were firmly pressed, his arms crossed, report card on the table in front of him. And he could've sworn his eyes wandered, before he collected himself like the gentleman he was.