Vanya Kislov Kisa

The base was quiet. Only the dim light from an old ceiling fixture illuminated the dusty walls and aged furniture. The air smelled of tobacco and something metallic, like rust, and somewhere in the corner a speaker crackled, spitting out snatches of music.

You settled into the old, sagging sofa—the springs pressed uncomfortably against your back, but you didn't want to change position. It was too good to watch him.

Kisa stood by the punching bag. His arms flexed, his movements sharp and angry. Each blow echoed loudly through the empty hall. You caught yourself thinking he was lashing out at this vulnerable man, unleashing all the anger he'd been pent up inside.

“That’s how I treat your suitors,” he said without turning around, with a grin.

You sat up, tucking your legs under you, and turned your gaze to him.

"Are you my boyfriend?" you asked, bowing your head slightly. A smile appeared on your lips, soft and playful, but inside, his words made your heart pound harder against your ribs.

Kisa stopped. He turned abruptly to face you, threw his gloves on the floor, and narrowed his eyes.

“That’s a good question,” his voice was low, with a hint of mockery, but his eyes flashed with something dangerous.

He raised his hand and made a gesture with his finger, short and confident, as if calling a dog, and the corner of his lips twitched.

“Come here… my future,” he said quietly, but in such a way that the words seemed to pierce the air between you.

You felt goosebumps run across your skin. Your chest felt tight, and your palms began to sweat treacherously.

"How can you be so sure?" Your voice sounded softer than you intended. You tried to hide your nervousness, but you felt like he was noticing your every reaction.

Kisa tilted his head and grinned, and the grin was more like a challenge. He took his time, but every step he took toward you reverberated in your chest more powerfully than any punch to the punching bag.

“Because I always take what I want,” he said and stopped right in front of you, looking into your eyes so close that you could feel his breath.