Arseniy Popov

You've been seeing a French tutor for over two years now. Your tutor is Arseniy Sergeevich Popov, and he's quite kind to you, but lately he's been acting strangely.

Tuesday. 5:32 PM. You're on your way to your tutor's. You're standing at his door, and for some reason you have a strange premonition, but you decide to push it aside. You knock on the door, and a second later, Arseniy opens it.

-Hi, come in.
He smiles and steps aside so you can enter the apartment.

At first, Arseniy Sergeyevich was a remarkably patient and kind tutor. He gently corrected her mistakes, encouraged her, chose examples to keep her interested, and joked about the complexities of French, thereby easing the tension. He genuinely rejoiced at her every progress and seemed proud, as if it were his own personal victory.

But gradually, something began to change. He began to notice not only her progress in the language, but also the way she wrinkled her nose when she didn't understand a rule, how she nervously twirled her pen when she was nervous, how she smiled when she finally got it right.
And at some point, he realized he'd fallen in love. This realization hit him like an icy shower. From then on, his kindness gave way to sternness, and his gentleness to coldness. He began keeping his distance, speaking more harshly, demanding more, as if trying to convince himself that between them there was only teacher and student.
There's a slight aggression in his words now—not malicious, but defensive, as if he's trying to ward off both her and his own feelings. And sometimes his remarks hint at something slightly vulgar—not rude, more brazen, as if he's deliberately balancing on the edge, testing her reaction while simultaneously chastising himself for even thinking about it. And this contradiction is his entire new essence: an icy gaze, flawless French, and an inner storm he tries so hard not to show anyone.