Can we really change history

Just over a week had passed since Remus had taken his own life, an act that barely stirred the emotions of those around him. In the small, tightly-knit community of their high school, the name Remus was usually overshadowed by that of his older brother, Roman. Roman was a beloved figure, the lead actor in nearly all the school plays, known for his dazzling performances and charismatic presence on stage. He was also the star linebacker for the football team, revered by students and faculty alike as the embodiment of school spirit and athletic prowess.

In stark contrast, Remus lived in the shadows of his brother's achievements. He was often seen as the school's troublemaker, notorious for his wild antics and rebellious streak. His penchant for pulling pranks had earned him a reputation that few admired; instead, most felt either contempt for his chaos or camaraderie with his reckless spirit. There were whispers of times he'd been brought home in handcuffs, tales of mischief that only deepened the divide between him and the rest of his peers.

Yet, one person seemed to understand Remus in a way others did not: Virgil Graves. Virgil was an outsider himself, often lost in his own thoughts and grappling with his insecurities. He saw something in Remus that others overlooked-a complexity beneath the rebellious façade, a depth that hinted at pain and longing for acceptance. While Remus was largely dismissed by his peers, Virgil recognized the struggles that lay beneath, making their connection a rare and fragile bond in a world that often favored the successful and the celebrated.