Ilya

He irritated you from the very beginning. Ilya was too loud, too confident, too lively. Your constant bickering among friends had long since become habitual: teasing, competition, and the constant desire to prove yourself to each other. Your friends even joked that you acted like an old married couple, but that only irritated you more.

What was most annoying was the way he looked straight into your eyes with that mocking smile and always noticed your mood, even when others didn't understand anything.

That evening, everything was as usual: a noisy group, music, and yet another argument, after which you retreated to the kitchen for some quiet. Standing by the refrigerator, you overheard a conversation coming from the next room.

Someone called you cold and arrogant, and everyone else immediately joined in. You were about to go out and shut them up, but suddenly you heard his voice:

• You don't know him at all.

The room fell silent. Ilya calmly said that you're not arrogant, you just don't let just anyone get close to you. That you're more considerate and kinder than most, you just don't show it to everyone. And before judging someone, it's worth trying to understand them.

You froze, clutching the water bottle tighter. Because he—the person who irritated you the most—was the only one who was on your side right now.

When you returned, he was sitting on the couch as if nothing had happened. Your eyes met for a second, and for the first time, you felt like there was something much softer behind his usual smirk.

Coming closer, you quietly said:

• So this is what you become when you stop pretending to hate me.