When I return to the dorm room, I immediately realize something is wrong. The air is saturated with someone else’s sweet and overpowering perfume. Dima is sitting on my bed. Or rather, he is kissing someone, and that someone doesn’t seem to mind that they have turned MY bed into a date spot.

  Words get stuck in my throat, unable to find their way out. I stand there, unable to move, as if I have stepped into another world where my feelings don’t matter. Dima doesn’t notice me, lost in the embrace of the girl. I feel my face flush, and bitterness mixes with rage inside me. Everything seems absurd and unreal, but I know: this can’t be ignored.

  I am overwhelmed by irritation. This is my territory, my personal comfort zone, and to see it so blatantly taken over is insulting.

  “Hmm,” I deliberately cough loudly to attract their attention.

  Dima abruptly pulls away from the girl and looks at me with annoyance, as though I have ruined his entire evening. The girl slowly turns toward me, and at that moment, I feel a rush of heat. This is she—Katrin.

  Her green eyes meet mine, and I notice them gleam.

  “You ruin my fun everywhere!” she says sharply, then begins fixing her disheveled hair. Her voice is cheeky, with a demanding yet strangely attractive tone. “Is there nothing better for you to do than mess with my fun?”

  I take a deep breath, trying to hold back my anger.

  “You call that fun?” My anger turns into irritation and... interest?

  “No, should I be as much of a prude as you? Sit with textbooks and be the ‘perfect student’?” She crosses her arms over her chest, her posture openly defiant.

  She looks dissatisfied, but in her gaze, there is a challenge, as if she intentionally wants to see how far I will go. I will never forget her look—a mix of sarcasm and cunning, enjoying the situation as she watches me struggle to maintain my dignity.

  “Perfection is clearly not your thing. You’re just pretending,” it slips out of me, I can’t hold it back. “What kind of student are you? You’re a fraud!”

  For a moment, her face freezes. Her cheeks flush, and her eyes blaze with anger. She jumps off the bed so quickly that even Dima flinches. Her fingers curl into fists, and her feet barely touch the ground at her speed. In the next moment, her hand shoots toward my face.

  Katrin looks stunned. Her breath is ragged, her lips trembling with rage, and her fist is frozen in the air, just a few centimeters from me. Dima barely manages to grab her hand and hold her back.

  “Call me that again, and I’ll tear your face off! Got it, Nerd?!” The girl looks ready to rip me apart.

  Her body trembles with tension, every muscle taut like a string ready to snap. She tries to break free from Dima’s hold, her movements sharp and fast, like a predator tearing toward its prey.

  I stand frozen, feeling the adrenaline rush through my veins, giving me determination but also filling me with fear. I don’t know what to expect from her next.

  But at that moment, when her fist is only a couple of centimeters from my face, everything freezes. I notice something strange in her eyes. That gaze, full of rage and threats, holds something deeper—something dark, hidden behind a stone mask. In her eyes, I see not just a thirst for revenge, but unbearable pain, carefully concealed, buried within her. Somewhere in the depth of that gaze, I recognize something familiar—vulnerability, hidden beneath a layer of aggression, suppressed pain that she perhaps doesn’t even know how to speak about but which screams for help.

  It is a reaction to something personal, something I feel I can’t even begin to imagine. What could have changed her so much? What has made her so cruel and, at the same time, so vulnerable?

  Dima finally tightens his grip on her hand, trying to calm her down. His voice is low and tense; he mutters something under his breath, but Katrin doesn’t seem to hear. Her eyes are still locked on me, burning with such intense hatred that it feels like they could set everything around us on fire.

  "Let’s go somewhere else and continue this there," Dima intervenes, taking her by the hand.

  "Do you want to strangle me with your words, or will you finally cool down?" I say quietly, trying to ease the tension, though inside, emotions are still raging.

  "You… you’ll pay for this!" Katrin takes a step toward me, and I freeze mid-air.

  Her behavior is both stunning and infuriating. She is a whirlwind—unafraid of either scandals or consequences. With every move she makes, I can feel her energy radiating, as if she is the center of her own world, one without any limits. She looks at me as if she is ready to tear me apart, waiting for me to make the next move. I stare back at her, torn between two emotions—anger and a strange admiration for her strength.

  I can’t tell what is stronger—the urge to leave or the need to stay. Her hair, crimson like molten lava, is in wild disarray, as if it is a living flame burning against the backdrop of her face. Every strand seems to breathe fire, highlighting her rage, while her eyes blaze like scorching embers, reflecting a storm ready to break free. But behind that fire lies an incredible force—one capable of destroying everything in its path, yet drawing me in like a magnet. At that moment, she is like a hurricane—dangerous, yet mesmerizing. She doesn’t just destroy; she creates a new reality, one where I have no idea what will happen next. But one thing is certain—I can’t look away.

  "Yeah, yeah, he got your point. Calm down, baby," Dima wraps an arm around her shoulders, holding her back. "He’s not worth your nerves. Let’s go."

  Dima nudges her toward the door, but she doesn’t even glance at him. She keeps staring at me. When they leave, the room is filled with a strange, almost tangible silence. I stand there, my gaze locked onto the empty doorway, which just moments ago had remained slightly open, like an invisible bridge between me and what has just happened. In that silence, the atmosphere thickens, and with each passing second, it becomes harder to breathe.

  Katrin… Her image won’t leave my mind. I feel that there is something dark hidden in her eyes, lurking behind her smile, and somehow, I have become her target. The thought refuses to let me go, and I can’t understand why.

  I take a deep breath and sit on the bed. The air still carries her presence. Everything is saturated with her scent—that sweet, cloying perfume that seems to have seeped into every corner of the room, refusing to let me be. It’s becoming stronger, a relentless reminder of what has happened, and it irritates me. That scent is unbearable, making me yearn for peace, which now feels unreachable.

  I try to distract myself, but her voice echoes in my mind like a sound impossible to silence. I know I can’t just forget about it, but at the same time, I feel an odd pull—somehow, I want to see her again. The more I try to understand what it is about her that makes me question my own feelings, the more lost I become.

  Unable to bear it any longer, I get up and walk to the wardrobe. I pull out fresh bed linens, trying to distract myself from intrusive thoughts. But all I can feel is her face, her anger, and the tension—something almost alive, something that won’t leave me. Even simple actions bring no relief. Every glance at the snow-white fabric keeps dragging me back to the thoughts I’m trying to escape.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  After a while, Dima returns—this time alone. Everything else fades into the shadow of his silent presence.

  “You ruin everything! I almost have her, and now she tells me to get lost!” he complains.

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t try to sleep with her on my bed,” I reply calmly, still lost in my own thoughts.

  “You know my bed’s been broken ever since Oleg, drunk off his ass, decides to jump on it. Damn that alcoholic!”

  Dima keeps mumbling something about his broken bed, but I’m barely listening. The image of Katrin is still in front of me—her rage, her energy, her... weakness? Why can’t I forget her?

  Finally, I finish making the bed and lie down with satisfaction. I’ve always liked fresh sheets—it’s almost the only thing that brings me comfort in moments like these. Cleanliness, silence, undisturbed by outside noise—that’s when I feel at peace. It doesn’t matter who has been on the bed before or what has happened around me; I just enjoy the moment. And even if I appear calm on the outside, inside, everything is still boiling. Emotions I can’t express keep piling up, and I long for at least a moment of oblivion.

  “Are you coming to the party?” My roommate peeks from around the corner, grinning, as if ready to test my patience again.

  “What party?” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but his expression already hints that it will be something familiar—loud and annoying.

  “The one on the second floor of the dorm.”

  As always—another one of their gatherings. I’m tired of their endless celebrations and noisy meetups. Every time, I understand them less and less. Pointless fun that brings no real satisfaction—just brief flashes of excitement, followed by emptiness. I’ve never been part of that world, and now I feel even more out of place.

  “No, I’m not going. You know that’s not for me.”

  “Well, yeah, you’re more into books, just like Katrin says.”

  They always say that, never understanding that books are my way of being myself. It’s not something stupid or boring—it’s my refuge, my comfort zone.

  “What time does it start, and how long does it last?” I’m not sure why I’m asking—maybe I just want to know how long this so-called freedom will last.

  “Oh, so you’re going after all?”

  “No, just curious how long this cacophony will go on.”

  “It starts at nine, in an hour. Ends around three or four in the morning. It’s Friday—no need to sleep,” my roommate adds with almost childlike excitement. “And there’s really no one here to disturb. Just you—everyone else will be there.”

  An hour later, when I first hear the music, I think it’s part of some distant dream. But as soon as I open my eyes and see Dima heading out somewhere, I remember the party.

  I’m not planning on going, but curiosity gets the best of me. Something inside is pulling me there. I want to see what Katrin is doing in a crowd like that, among those people. Why is that her place?

  When Dima asks if I’m coming, I’m about to refuse. But deep down, a strange thought surfaces—what if she’s there?

  I don’t change my clothes. Why would I? I’m just going to take a quick look. I’m wearing simple checkered pajama pants and a T-shirt with a childish print—the most basic outfit that suits the situation.

  As I step onto the second floor, I’m immediately hit by the heavy smell of alcohol and cigarettes. It clings to my nostrils, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste. The room is lit by flickering string lights, their bright glow creating a festive atmosphere, yet giving it an eerie, unfamiliar mystique. Everything around me seems to strive for cheerfulness and vibrancy, but there’s something cold and detached about it. The bass of the music is so powerful that I can feel its vibrations in my chest. It almost physically consumes me, making me want to cover my ears and retreat to my room, where it’s quieter and calmer. At that moment, it becomes clear: this reality isn’t mine. For many, this is a fun gathering—loud and full of life—but for me, it feels foreign and uncomfortable.

  Why can’t people just sit and talk peacefully, without all this noise and alcohol? Why do joy and excitement always have to come with loud sounds, fake smiles, and endless drinking? Can’t the world exist in silence, where everyone can simply be themselves, without the oppressive pressure of "normalcy" and the expectation of constant fun?

  I’m about to turn and leave when my roommate grabs my arm and pulls me toward their table. His grip is a little too firm, though not enough for me to resist. These people, with their drunken stares and half-smiles, are clearly not the kind of company I want.

  "Everyone, meet my roommate, Maxim," he says, as if introducing the most important guest of the night.

  "Hey, everyone," I say, already feeling like I don’t belong here.

  "What’s up with your outfit, dude? Where’d you get it? Got a hook?" one of the guys, covered in tattoos, gives my T-shirt a curious once-over, his gaze burning into me.

  "Give what? A hook? For what?" I’m a little confused, unsure of what he means.

  "Don’t stress, Max. He’s asking where you bought your clothes, wants a link to the online store," my roommate quickly explains, noticing how I instinctively take a step back.

  "I didn’t buy them. My mom sent it in a package."

  The laughter that follows is so unpleasant that I feel something inside me clench. This whole situation feels like a bizarre, ridiculous nightmare.

  I’m about to leave when Katrin appears. Drunk and slightly unsteady, she grabs my hand and pulls me away. I have no idea what’s happening. Why have I even come here? Why is everything shifting so suddenly? And who am I to her now?

  She leads me to a quiet corner, where we’re alone. Everything else fades away, leaving only her eyes—shiny and filled with a strange sincerity—at the center of my attention. I feel her intoxicated gaze pierce through me, stirring something unexplainable in my soul. What does she want? Why is she acting like this?

  She rests her head against my chest, and I feel her hair brush against my face—soft and warm, creating a strange mix of vulnerability and an odd sense of peace. It seems like the world has stopped, and caught off guard, I can’t find the words.

  "Can I stay at your place for the night? I promise I won’t bother you. I’ll just sleep, and I’ll leave in the morning," her voice is quiet, but there’s raw vulnerability in it. I feel an unfamiliar warmth and unease wash over me. She isn’t just asking—she’s searching for refuge in this strange, unfamiliar place.

  I stay silent for a few seconds, trying to process what’s happening. The silence between us thickens, pressing against my chest. Just two hours ago, she threatened me, her words slicing through the air. And now she’s here—almost helpless, asking for help. It’s so absurd that I have no idea how to react. Everything feels like a surreal dream where I have no clue what to do. But at some point, realizing it’s too late to turn back, I find myself unable to refuse.

  "Alright," I say, not quite believing what has just happened.

  My voice comes out weak and shaky, yet somewhere in it, there’s already a hint of resolve, even though I don’t understand what exactly I’m deciding.

  I know this might be a mistake, that agreeing to her request could be the start of something I’ll later regret. But at that moment, when she looks at me with that extraordinary sincerity and hope, I can no longer stop myself.

  Hey there, friend!

  Thank you for reading all the way to the end of Chapter Two ?? It truly means a lot to me.

  A few questions for you:

  you have done after returning to your room?

  ?? See you in Chapter Three! There'll be even more surprises... and maybe the first cracks in their armor.

  Ophelia