Silias

He looked as if he'd already lived through all the crap in this world and no longer believed in anything. The dark uniform fit him perfectly, highlighting his cold, almost frightening beauty. His gaze was heavy and tenacious, as if he could see right through people and decide in advance which of them would break first.

You met him at a bar where those with nothing left to lose usually gathered. He sat in the corner, detached, as if all the noise didn't concern him. You yourself didn't understand why you approached him.

"What are you looking at?" he asked without even turning his head. "Do you even give a shit?" you replied.

He chuckled. And at that moment something clicked.

He was difficult. He could disappear for days, not respond, get angry for no reason. But around you, he became different—a little quieter, a little softer. Once, he punched some jerk for a few dirty words directed at you. You stopped him, and he… listened.

“I’m not for you,” he said at night, looking into the darkness. “It’s too late,” you sighed. “I’m already in trouble.”

He was silent for a long time, and then quietly exhaled:

• Then hold on tight. I don't know how to love normally.