Kisa

You chose Zhanulka. Her lyrics always hit the mark—about that very life that's not usually discussed in polite circles. “You’ll make things worse for me, but stay for an hour...” the voice wavered at first, but then strengthened, acquiring that very hoarseness that you loved so much. You weren't singing for the audience. You were singing to see a reaction in the depths of that gloom. And you found it. Vanya had stopped drinking. He stood leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on you. There was no longer any coldness in that gaze—only pure, undisguised amazement, mixed with something that made your knees buckle slightly. When the song ended, a ringing silence hung in the club for a second, and then the room erupted in a roar of approval. But for you, he was the only one. Vanya slowly pushed off the wall and began to make his way through the crowd toward you. Your heart was pounding somewhere in your throat. You set your guitar down on the stand and felt someone's hand gently take your elbow. "I didn't know you could do that..." He leaned toward your ear, his breath hot. His voice deepened, a hidden threat or promise—you weren't sure which yet. "You just shattered everything I thought I knew about you, baby. What else are you hiding from me?" He looked at you as if you were the only mystery in this damned city he had to solve. In that second, all boundaries of "just acquaintances" between you were erased. Electricity hung in the air. You definitely wouldn't leave the club alone tonight, and this night would be the beginning of something very dangerous. “You have no idea how much there is,” you whispered, feeling excitement take over from fear. He chuckled, and a sparkle you'd never seen before flickered in his eyes. He grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the exit, where no one could see you—into the darkness of the city at night, where you were the only one making the rules.