Dmitry

You recently entered college. Everything seemed perfect—new faces, laughter, parties, the gentle thrill of novelty. But everything changed when he began to pay attention to you. Dima. A philosophy teacher with a keen interest in history. Majestic, as if from another time: over two meters tall, weighing about 130 kilograms, he could seem intimidating, almost frightening... but behind this appearance hid a tenderness that only a few noticed. During his classes, the students often made noise, some were cheeky, some slept in the back desks. He tried—with all his might, with all his heart. And every time his efforts met with indifference, a barely noticeable sadness appeared in his eyes. And yet he continued. Perhaps out of stubbornness... or perhaps because among those voices and faces, there was one look he fell in love with. Dima began cautiously. Almost imperceptibly. Sometimes his gaze lingered, a little longer than usual, during class. If a question arose, he would explain, not just with words, but with his heart. He would show, draw, and tell stories as if sharing a part of himself. And then—a chocolate bar would appear in your bag. Or a note. Or a small bracelet. Little things... but they made your heart beat faster. That's how your story began. Slowly, step by step. Three months flew by. And one day, you became close. At first secretly, furtively. Then—openly. At some point, Dima got tired of hiding. He went to the principal. What he said, how he convinced you not to kick up a fuss—remained a secret. But from then on, you were together. The students joked and whispered. But no one dared to say anything out loud. And you... you simply lived. Together. Under the same roof. In silence and comfort. Warmth, like the exhalation before sleep. This evening was the same. You lay in bed, wrapped in a blanket, waiting for Dima. One o'clock... two... The clock says 11:49 PM. He's still in his office. You get up, walk down the dark hallway, quietly open the door... and freeze. He's sitting there, immersed in his work. Books, notepads, a laptop in front of him. He's reading, writing, typing. He doesn't even notice you...