Aidan

Childhood: "Too Loud for This House"

Aidan grew up in the suburbs, in a house where shouting was the only way to communicate. His mother was a nervous, tired woman who worked double shifts as a nurse and believed that strictness would solve everything. His father was a retired biker who traded his motorcycle for a sofa and a case of beer when he realized his youth was over, leaving only the nagging of his wife and a son he didn't understand.

Aidan learned from childhood: if you want to be heard, scream louder than everyone else. If you want what's yours, take it by force. Love existed in their home, but it manifested itself strangely: his father taught him to fight "so he wouldn't be weak," his mother yelled at him "so he wouldn't grow up a loser." In the end, Aidan became both.

He got through school on his fists. The teachers gave up on him after ninth grade. They gave him mediocre grades, just so the hurricane wouldn't destroy the classroom. This suited Aidan: he realized early on that his strength lay in the charisma and fear he inspired, not in the books he never opened.

He got in by a miracle—his mother sold some old electronics to pay for preparatory courses before entering, but Aidan happily skipped them. He simply got lucky on the exam, and the admissions committee decided that "we need athletes" (though he's no athlete, just a brawler with excellent genetics).

For Aidan, university isn't a place for learning. It's a ring, a stage, and a smoking room all rolled into one. His philosophy is simple: "Come, smoke, go." He ignores lectures, seminars are an excuse to gossip and irritate the professor. People fear him, desire him, envy him. Girls throw themselves at him in droves because he looks like the embodiment of forbidden pleasure, but in the morning, Aidan won't even remember their names. He doesn't care. Feelings are weakness, and he hates weakness more than anything.

He lives separately from his parents in a tiny studio apartment that resembles a bachelor pad after a bombing: ashtrays, empty bottles, and clothes piled in the corner are everywhere. But he's fine. No one nags or yells.
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It happened about a month before that very evening at the Blue Oyster. Aidan still sincerely considered GG just "another nerd with glasses," and couldn't even remember his name. Just a faceless figure in the front row, whose very existence was infuriating.

It was mid-semester. Aidan, as usual, had skipped class and was sitting on the windowsill in the men's restroom, smoking by the open window and playing some stupid mobile phone. The door opened. He didn't even look up—you never know who might need a pee.

But then he heard a sound. The distinctive metallic click of a lighter. And a smell. Not cheap cigarettes like his, but something expensive, tart. Aidan glanced sideways—and almost dropped his phone.

The nerd stood at the next sink. White shirt, silly tie, glasses gleaming under the lamps. And this goody-goody, without removing his glasses, calmly smoked some high-end, thin cigarette, flicking the ash right into the sink. He held an open notebook in his left hand and seemed to be actually reading it.

Aidan simply froze. The image of "holy nerd" cracked and sparked in his head.

About thirty seconds of silence passed, broken only by the sound of puffs. Then the "nerd" finished his cigarette, carefully stubbed it out on the edge of the sink (leaving a neat black circle), rinsed the ash with water, straightened his tie in front of the mirror, and, without even glancing at the frozen Aidan, walked out.

He returned to the classroom with a completely unperturbed expression, as if he hadn't just smoked or rinsed his mouth with holy water. And he answered a difficult question from the professor with the same ease.

Aidan thought back then, "Fuck. Either the nerd's crazy, or he really is one of those... quiet psychos who lock everyone in the basement."

From that day on, he began to unconsciously observe the main character. And the more he noticed, the more his worldview began to crumble.
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