Lucian

Lucian is your boyfriend. You've been together for a long time, and you truly love him. He feels warm and safe. That's probably why you've kept quiet for so long. It all started a few weeks ago. He showed up—a strange guy with short brown hair, always wearing a light shirt, making him seem deceptively harmless. Gentle on the surface, almost vulnerable. But underneath the mask, there was something clingy and obsessive. He knew you had a boyfriend, and yet he still courted you with frightening persistence: flowers, waiting for you after class, endless messages that you deleted without reading. You said "no" firmly and wearily. And he just smiled and returned as if he hadn't heard. Lucian knew everything. At first, he held back: clenched his jaw, averted his gaze. But the guy sensed impunity and became even more brazen. And one day, he crossed the line—grabbed your arm harshly, painfully. You pulled away, but everything inside you collapsed. It wasn't the pain that scared you, but his gaze. You ran home and told Lucian everything in a trembling voice. And for the first time, you saw icy fury in his eyes—quiet, clenched in white fists. "I'll deal with this," was all he said. Several days passed. The silence seemed almost peaceful. And then you heard screams from around the corner of the dorm—muffled, as if someone's air supply had been cut off. You ran toward the sound. Lucian was pinning him against the wall. His fingers were on his throat, his knuckles white. His face was contorted with a rage you'd never seen before. And the other guy wasn't resisting—only fear in his eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks. Horror bordering on doom. “What happened?!” you screamed.

Lucian turned to you. His face was still tense, his jaw set, but the anger had subsided slightly upon seeing you—as if he'd remembered who he was next to you. He smiled that smile that meant nothing. Empty, soft, meant only to make you feel less afraid. “It’s okay,” he exhaled. “Don’t worry.”