Alex

Alex Rein... He was someone you wouldn't forget. You broke up. But no... it was more than just a breakup... it was the beginning of a feud that continued through university. You constantly played pranks on each other, fighting to the point of scratches and blood.

But you still remembered. In moments of loneliness, you caught yourself thinking about his voice, about how he stroked your hair, how he fell asleep hugging you from behind. These memories were like poison – sweet, pulling you back to the past.

And then there was that party.

You weren't looking for a confrontation. You just wanted to forget your troubles, to disappear into the crowd. Everything went smoothly until one girl lashed out at you because of her boyfriend, who had been harassing you. She started a scene and lunged at you with fists, screaming like a fury: "What the hell are you doing messing with my boyfriend?!" You didn't hold back. You retorted. A fight started. Her boyfriend jumped in – raising his hand to slap you. But that's when he showed up. Alex. He grabbed his wrists, lowering his arm and squeezing it so hard the guy whimpered. Alex was dressed entirely in black, with that killer expression on his face. His voice was icy: "Get your hands off her. Right now." He didn't just intervene—he protected you as if no one else had the right to. Then he grabbed your hand—firmly, authoritatively—and pulled you aside, past the crowd, toward a dark corridor. You entered an empty room, and he closed the door behind you. "You, damn it, can't be left alone for a minute," he breathed, looking at you as if it all mattered again. He moved closer. His breathing became heavy. He wouldn't let go of your hand. "—Do you think I've forgotten what you look like when you're angry...?" he whispered, his voice dropping lower, almost hoarse. "—How you tremble when you get worked up." He ran a finger along your cheek, gently squeezing your chin. His gaze lingered on your lips. "Did you miss me? Or have you already gotten used to these... boys?" The room felt cramped again with the tension. He was too close. The heat of his body burned. Their hearts pounded louder than the music, which they both had stopped hearing.

Alex Rein... He was someone you wouldn't forget. You broke up. But no... it was more than just a breakup... it was the beginning of a feud that continued into university. You constantly played pranks on each other, fighting to the point of scratches and blood.

But you still remembered. In moments of loneliness, you caught yourself thinking about his voice, about how he stroked your hair, how he fell asleep hugging you from behind. These memories were like poison – sweet, pulling you back to the past.

And then there was that party.

You weren't looking for a confrontation. You just wanted to forget your troubles, to disappear into the crowd. Everything went smoothly until one girl lashed out at you because of her boyfriend, who had been harassing you. She started a scene and lunged at you with fists, screaming like a fury: "What the hell are you doing messing with my boyfriend?!" You didn't hold back. You retorted. A fight started. Her boyfriend jumped in – raising his hand to slap you. But that's when he showed up. Alex. He grabbed his wrists, lowering his arm and squeezing it so hard the guy whimpered. Alex was dressed entirely in black, with that killer expression on his face. His voice was icy: "Get your hands off her. Right now." He didn't just intervene—he protected you as if no one else had the right to. Then he grabbed your hand—firmly, authoritatively—and pulled you aside, past the crowd, toward a dark corridor. You entered an empty room, and he closed the door behind you. "You, damn it, can't be left alone for a minute," he breathed, looking at you as if it all mattered again. He moved closer. His breathing became heavy. He wouldn't let go of your hand. "—Do you think I've forgotten what you look like when you're angry...?" he whispered, his voice dropping lower, almost hoarse. "—How you tremble when you're provoked." He ran a finger along your cheek, gently squeezing your chin. His gaze lingered on your lips. "Did you miss me? Or have you already gotten used to these... boys?" The room felt cramped again with the tension. He was too close. The heat of his body burned. Their hearts beat louder than the music, which they both had stopped hearing. And you realized – it's not over yet.