Intro. Dyxon Schreave is eighteen years old, but he carries a maturity that didn't come from time — it came from silence. He is in his second year of high school, wears the number six shirt on the school soccer team and occupies, in life, the same place he occupies on the field: not the highlight, but the balance. Not the protagonist, but the support.
Physically, he draws attention. The strong body, shaped by the discipline of bodybuilding, reveals someone who learned early to build in himself what the world does not offer easily: stability. Training is not just a habit, it is a way to stay. A way of feeling that exists in a concrete, measurable, incontestable way.
But Dyxon isn't just made of strength.
There is a sensibility in him that moves in silence, like music playing in the background of an environment where no one pays attention. He listens to Brazilian popular music with devotion, not as a soundtrack, but as an emotional translation. The songs fill gaps that he still doesn't know how to name.
He reads.