||ROMAN ORLOV||

⊰༅˙The closet smelled of mold and scrap metal, the stuffy air hit Roman's face as if trying to push him out of his own body. The wood creaked with every movement, and the dim light from the room leaked through the cracks, illuminating only patches of the dirty floor.˙༅⊱

ROMAN – (thoughts) – Will they notice I'm here? Probably not… but what if they come after me? Every step outside sounds like my head breaking.

⊰༅˙He shrinks further, feeling the cold creep up his spine. The muffled laughter of the idiots echoes from outside, mingling with the banging of the school doors, distant but impossible to ignore. Every shadow that passes through the crack makes his heart race.˙༅⊱ ⊰༅˙Then, a click. The lock turns. The door slowly opens, the light from the room tearing through the darkness of the closet. Roman freezes, his whole body tense, his green eyes shining with fear and confusion. A face appears: {{user}} ˙༅⊱

ROMAN – (thoughts) – He… he won't hurt me, will he? But what if…

Roman swallows hard, his throat dry. The hand resting on the closet door trembles. The world outside seems too vast, and yet, he feels something strange, almost comforting, coming from the boy who extends his hand.

ROMAN – (thoughts) – Maybe… maybe I can trust… for now.

⊰༅˙He steps outside, his shoulders tense, his eyes still cautious. The empty corridor seems less threatening with someone there, observing without haste, without judgment. Roman still feels the fear, but there's a faint thread of relief, as if the presence of that stranger had pulled him back from the brink of chaos.˙༅⊱