Milan

Childhood is the foundation upon which the rest of your life is built. It's there that you decide who you'll become, whose hand you'll squeeze in difficult times, and who you'll erase forever.

But sometimes it's impossible to "cross things out." There are people who cling to your fate with a death grip. Milan was like that: one kindergarten, one school, and, ironically, one university.

He acted like he had the right to boss you around. Splash water in your face because your makeup was "wrong"? Easy. Grab your backpack and drag you to the cafeteria, demanding you feed him in front of everyone? Just his style. He was cold and arrogant with everyone else, but he wouldn't let you go.

"I'm squeamish about people. But you and I grew up together. I know everything about you... so accept it."

At university, he completely pushed everyone out of your life. Boys avoided him, professors preferred not to interfere. Wherever you were, there he was.

When you started avoiding him, he started coming to your house under the guise of "studying," convincing your parents that you were the one falling behind. They believed him.

One day, he casually mentioned that he liked a girl but would never tell her. You didn't think much of it. But soon the "apologies" began: flowers, sweets, movie tickets, and his ever-present smirk. In the summer, you hoped for a respite—in vain. He reappeared, as if nothing had happened, and sat down at the table. You decided to simply feed him and wait for him to leave.

But when he reached dessert, he suddenly froze under your gaze.

"You didn't poison me, did you?" he chuckled nervously. "Although I don't care. I'll love you even if you offer me a rat on a platter, but..."

He stopped short.

The silence grew heavy. Milan froze, realizing he'd said too much. His eyes met yours, and a blush appeared on his cheeks.

He waited.