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 find myself in 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.
"Ahem," I deliberately cough loudly to attract attention.
Dima abruptly pulls away from the girl and looks at me with annoyance, as though I have ruined his entire evening. His companion slowly turns toward me, and at that moment, I feel a rush of heat. It is her — Katrin.
Her green eyes meet mine, and I notice how they gleam.
"You ruin my fun everywhere!" she says sharply, starting to fix her disheveled hair. Her voice sounds cheeky, with a demanding yet simultaneously 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 proper 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 am willing to go. I could never forget her look — a mix of sarcasm and cunning; she is enjoying the situation, watching me try to maintain my dignity.
"Being proper is clearly not your thing. All you know how to do is pretend," 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 from the swiftness. In the next moment, her hand shoots toward my face.
Katrin looks stunned. Her breath is ragged, her lips tremble with rage, and her fist freezes in the air, not reaching me by just a few centimeters. 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 is ready to rip me apart.
Her body trembles with tension, every muscle taut to the limit like a string ready to snap. She tries to break free from Dima's hands, her movements sharp and fast, like a predator tearing toward its prey.
I stand frozen, feeling the adrenaline pump blood through my veins, giving me resolve but at the same time 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 read not just a thirst for revenge, but unbearable pain, carefully concealed, buried within her. Somewhere in the depths 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, it seems, I can't even imagine. What could have changed her so much? What 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 sounds low and tense; he mutters something, but Katrin doesn't seem to hear. Her eyes are still locked on me, and they burn with such intense hatred that it feels like they could incinerate everything around.
"Let's go somewhere else and continue 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 me, emotions are still raging.
"You… you'll pay for this!" Katrin takes a step toward me, and I freeze.
Her behavior both amazes and irritates me. She is a true whirlwind: unafraid of either scandals or consequences. With every move she makes, I can feel how she radiates energy, as if she is the center of her own world in which there are no limits. She looks at me as if she is ready to tear me apart, and waits for me to make the next move. I stare back at her, and two emotions fight within me: anger and a strange admiration for her strength.
I can't tell what is stronger — the desire to leave or to stay. Her hair, crimson like molten lava, is in wild disarray, like 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, capable of destroying everything in its path, yet at the same time drawing me in like a magnet. At that moment, she is like a hurricane — dangerous, but mesmerizing.
She doesn't just destroy; she creates a new reality where I have no idea what will happen next, but I know one thing for certain: I can't look away.
"Yeah, yeah, he got your point. Calm down, baby," Dima hugs her by the shoulders, holding her back. "He's just not worth your nerves. Let's go."
Dima nudges her toward the door, but she doesn't even glance at him. The girl keeps staring intently 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 recently had remained slightly open, like an invisible bridge between me and what just happened. In this silence, the atmosphere heavily fills the space, and with each passing second, it becomes harder for me to breathe.
Katrin… her image won't leave me. I feel that there is something dark hidden in her eyes, lurking behind her smile, and somehow, I am becoming her target. This feeling refuses to let me go, and I can't understand why.
I sigh heavily and sit on the bed. The air around still carries her presence. Everything is saturated with her scent; this sweet, cloying perfume of hers seems to have seeped into every corner of the room, giving me no peace. It is becoming stronger, reminding me of what happened, and I feel irritated. This scent is becoming unbearable, making me yearn for peace, which now feels unreachable.
I try to distract myself, but her voice echoes in my ears 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 in her makes me question my own feelings, the more entangled I become.
Unable to bear it, I get up and walk to the wardrobe. I pull out fresh bed linens, trying to somehow get rid of the intrusive thoughts. But all I can feel is her face, her anger, and tension, like something alive that won't leave me. Even simple actions bring no relief. Every glance at the snow-white fabric drags me back to those thoughts from which I am trying to escape again and again.
After a while, Dima returns, this time alone. Everything else fades into the shadow of his silent presence.
"You ruined everything! I almost convinced her, and now she told me to get lost!" he complains.
"Well, you shouldn't have tried to sleep with her on my bed," I reply calmly, not tearing myself away from my thoughts.
"You know yourself that my bed has been somewhat broken ever since Oleg, drunk, decided to jump on it. Damn him, that alcoholic!"
Dima keeps mumbling something about his broken bed, but I'm barely listening. The image of Katrin stands before my eyes. Her rage, her energy, her… weakness? Why can't I forget her?
Finally, I make the bed and lie down on it with satisfaction. I've always liked it when the sheets are fresh — it's almost the only thing that brings me joy in moments like these. Cleanliness, silence, undisturbed by outside noise — that is exactly when I feel harmony. It doesn't matter who has been on the bed before, and it doesn't matter what is happening around; I just enjoy the moment. And even if I remain calm on the outside, inside, everything is still boiling. The emotions I can't express keep piling up, and I long to forget myself for at least a moment.
"Are you going to the party?" my roommate seems to be peeking from around the corner with a smile, ready to test my endurance again.
"What party?" I have no idea what he means, but his facial expression immediately hints that it will be something familiar, loud, and annoying.
"There, on the second floor of the dorm."
As always — another one of these wild gatherings. I get tired of their endless celebrations and noisy meetups. With each time, I understand less and less why they need this. Pointless fun that brings no satisfaction, just brief flashes, and then emptiness again. I've never been part of this world, and now I feel increasingly alien in it.
"No, I won't go. You know that's not for me."
"Well, yeah, you're more into books, just like Katrin said."
They always say that, never understanding that for me, books are a way of being myself. It's not something stupid or boring; it's my refuge, my comfort zone.
"And what time does it start, and until when?" I'm not sure why I'm asking, maybe it's just a desire to understand how long this supposed freedom will be there.
"So you're going after all?"
"No, just curious until what time this cacophony will last."
"It will start at nine in the evening, in an hour. It will end around three or four in the morning. Friday — you don't have 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, hearing the music, at first I think it's part of some distant dream. But as soon as I open my eyes and see Dima heading out somewhere, I immediately remember the party. I'm not planning to go, but curiosity turns out to be stronger. Someone inside is pulling me there. I wonder what Katrin is doing in such a crowd, among such people. Why is her place there?
When Dima asked if I would go to the party, I was about to refuse. But deep down, a strange thought surfaced: what if she is there?
I didn't change my clothes. Why? I'm just planning to take a quick look. I'm wearing simple checkered pajama pants and a T-shirt with a childish print — the most basic things that could suit me in this situation.
As I step onto the second floor, I immediately sense the heavy smell of alcohol and cigarettes. It hits my nostrils, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste. The room is lit by flickering string lights, whose bright glow creates a festive atmosphere, yet gives it some kind of alien mystique. Everything around strives to be cheerful and bright, but there's something cold and detached in it. The bass of the music is so powerful that its vibrations are felt in the chest. I almost physically feel how this sound consumes me, and I want to cover my ears and return to my room, where it's quieter and calmer. At that moment, it becomes clear: this reality is not mine. For many, this is a fun gathering, loud and full of life, but for me, it is foreign and uncomfortable.
Why can't you just sit peacefully and talk, without all this noise and alcohol? Why do joy and excitement always have to be accompanied by loud sounds, fake smiles, and endless drinking? Can the world really not exist in silence, where everyone can simply be themselves, without this oppressive pressure of "normalcy" and the expectation of constant fun?
I already want to turn around and leave when my roommate grabs my arm and pulls me toward their table. His grip is a bit strong, but not enough for me to resist. These people with their drunken stares and half-smiles are clearly not the ones I want to communicate with.
"Everyone, meet my roommate — Maxim," he says, with a look as if he just introduced me as the most important person at the party.
"Hey, everyone!" I feel how foreign this place is to me.
"What's up with your roommate's outfit? Where'd he get it? Got a link?" one of the guys with tattoos gives my T-shirt a curious once-over, and I feel his gaze literally burning into me.
"Give what? A link?" I am a little lost and don't know what he means.
"Don't stress, Max. He's asking where you bought these clothes, wants a link to an online store," my roommate quickly explains, noticing how I start to back away.
"I didn't buy them, my mom sent them in a package."
The laughter that follows my words is so unpleasant that I feel everything inside me clench. All this looks like a strange and ridiculous nightmare.
I already want to leave when Katrin appears. Drunk and swaying slightly, she grabs my hand and pulls me aside. I don't understand what is happening. Why did I even come here? Why is everything changing so sharply, and who am I to her right now?
She leads me to a quiet corner where we are left alone. Everything around disappears, and only her eyes, shiny and full of a strange sincerity, remain at the center of my attention. I feel her intoxicated gaze penetrate me, stirring something strange in my soul. What does she want? Why is she acting like this?
The girl rests her head on my chest, and I feel her hair brush against my face — soft and warm, creating a strange feeling of vulnerability, but also some weird peace. It seems that the world has stopped, and I, caught off guard, cannot find words.
"Can I stay at your place for the night? I really won't bother you. I'll just sleep, and I'll leave in the morning," her voice sounds quiet, but there's a sincere vulnerability in it, and I feel an unknown warmth and anxiety wash over me. She asks as if she is searching for refuge in this strange and unfamiliar place.
I stay silent for a few seconds, trying to understand what is happening. The silence between us becomes thick, and I feel it pressing against my chest. Just two hours ago, she was threatening me, her words tearing the air, and now she is here, almost helpless, asking for help. This is so absurd that I don't know how to react. Everything feels like a surreal dream in which I don't know what to do. But at some point, feeling that it's already too late to change anything, I cannot refuse.
"Alright," I say, not believing what just happened.
My voice sounds weak and trembling, but there is already resolve in it, even though I don't understand what exactly I am deciding.
I know that this might be a mistake, that responding to her request could turn out to 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.