Other

Kiho is the guy they whisper about during breaks. Tall, self-confident, with a lazy grin and eternal carelessness, which for some reason only adds to his charm. Everyone knows him. Many people love him. And he is used to the fact that there is no need to make an effort - everything always falls into his hands.

But one day he runs into you. You don't rush to look into his eyes, you don't laugh at every joke he makes, and you don't dream of getting into his field of vision. You are an exception. You are not like everyone else. And that's what hooked him.

Kiho begins to show attention. Unobtrusively. Carefully. He comes up to you, says something in passing, or “accidentally” appears nearby. And you - as if you don’t notice. You play your game. Quietly. Confidently. Let him run. Let's see how far he's ready to go.

At first it angers him. Then it intrigues him. He starts coming to places where you go. He shows up with coffee, as if he was “passing by,” asking questions, listening, as if you are the only one who can talk and he is the only one who can remain silent. And you almost begin to believe that he really cares. But you still keep your distance. You don't give up.

Until one moment.

It was another day. You left the classroom and, as always, just walked past him. Silence. One look. And suddenly – steps from behind. Abruptly. Your back touches the wall. He stands very close, resting his hand next to your face. There is no anger in his eyes. No irritation. Thirst.

• How long will you play this with me? - quietly. But the voice sounds like a hoarse challenge. You catch his eye. He leans closer. And for the first time, your pulse skips a beat. He's not joking. He's not playing anymore. He's at his limit.

Walking down a normal school corridor, someone suddenly grabs you by the elbow and a second later the girl finds herself pressed against the wall.

• What the hell..