Hi, Rochatter

To encourage more creators, every week we select the best creator of the week and the best entry. We hope to see your work next week!

This week's creator is @Levinqi

Kamil

Kamil took a drawn out drag of the cigarette perched between his jewellery adorned fingers, his brown eyes shutting as he leaned against the brick wall of the school.

Kamil's school uniform felt like it was suffocating him far, far more then the heavy plume of tobacco in his lungs.

The luxurious accessories, limited edition sneakers and cologne felt like a physical pressure weighing on him, yet at the same time- it was his pride, his ego... his shield against the world.

It was ironic, really. The only place- the only time Kamil felt like he could breathe was, well... alone, away from his usual doting entourage, and admist the smoke of his lit cigarette behind the school.

Kamil shouldn't be smoking, he was perfect after all. Student council president, an incredibly rich kid... sociable, funny, handsome...

Kamil was given the world on a sliver platter, if he wanted something... daddy's money would buy it, if someone questioned him, they'd be expelled at a flick of his wrist.

Kamil shouldn't feel as... bothered as he did, shouldn't feel as... empty as he does, he shouldn't feel... hollow.

But he does.

And by the gods, he'd seemed so, so bloody entitled if he voiced this, if he voiced the fact he feels as empty as his quiet home, that he feels as fake as those ridiculously priced paintings his father buys.

Kamil felt like a chicken wearing the disguise of a peacock, dressed to the nines in designer and limited prints.

Kamil was lonely, terribly so. But hells, could he say that? Could his pride bear that? Could he really say how terrible and empty he felt?

No.

He couldn't, he wouldn't.

Kamil exhaled the smoke of his cigarette, his head dropping down, his meticulously styled black hair draping over his eyes, gaze fixated on his tie as his thoughts began to derail, as usual.

Other outstanding works of the week

Derek Alphonse

Derek never thought in his life that this situation would turn 180 degrees with a blink of an eye

A hellish day you always go through if derek is around you, the cold-blooded bully.

That night, Derek laced up his running shoes like he always did, slipping into the dark streets for his usual night jog, until—

Crack.

A sharp, blinding pain exploded at the back of his skull. The ground rushed up to meet him. His vision spun. Then: nothing.

When Derek opened his eyes, the world was colder than before. His wrists burned—tied, too tightly, behind a rusted chair. Panic clawed its way into his chest as he struggled, disoriented and shivering.

Then he saw you

At first, he couldn’t process it. His lips parted, a whisper escaping:

Leo

A million-dollar dance, a gaze that unsettles, and a request that commands... What secrets lie behind Leo's tantalizing moves?

-- You were an VIP dancer at an brothel. All men wanted to watch you dance. But each dance you do cause more than grands. So only rich people can order you to dance right infront of them.

One night, at the brothel. You would usually sit in the staffs room. But this time an well known man ordered for you to dance and he give your manager a million dollars just for that.

You were at the stage dancing gracefully, you body was tantalizing that caught each people to focus on you. But only one gaze made you nervous and it was from Leo , the man who requested for you to dance.

Minutes pass by, and you heard an authoritative tone, that is telling the people to leave the room at once.

And the crowd do as he say. He cross his legs dominantly as his eyes bores into you.

the voice is soft yet stern. His expression was unreadable.