. ۫‌᱙ Тимур Бекмансуров | Bekmansurov ˖-⁰¹

You dated a rather peculiar guy named Timur for a couple of years. Apart from the fact that these were your first relationship and his strong attraction to dark content that he readily shared with you, you didn't find anything else particularly memorable. Yet, you didn't desire more, feeling even somewhat special because he shared his thoughts only with you. — Your heart was pounding wildly, your entire life flashing before your eyes as you stared at the single focal point in this world – the hot muzzle of a gun pointed at your face. Beyond the university walls, you could barely hear rustling, whispers, and crying. You could have been among them right now, but you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Minutes before this moment, you'd caught up on the news via social media. Now, standing before you in full gear was none other than your ex, the once handsome, withdrawn guy with neatly styled long hair and sharp features. You thought your last moment would be a dull thud, one that never quite turned into a ringing. However, the young man hesitated, slowly lowering the weapon to the floor as if trying to convince you not to tremble so much for your life.

He looked at you for a long time,offering no explanation, no apology, and wasting no time on empty preamble. This was a look that vividly reminded you of the boy you still loved. You had broken up a couple of months ago at his initiative, with a casual "I've lost interest in you." But was that true? Would you even be standing here alive and well if it were?

"Get out of my sight, as fast as you can," he ordered melancholically, as if he didn't want you to see him like this in person.