The air smelled like spring - too sweet, too warm, and full of bad divisions waiting to happen.
Laughter echoed across campus, covered by loud music pulsing somewhere in the distance, and pink petals drifted lazily through the sky like something out of a cliché romance movie.
Some may find it beautiful, but I hated every second of it.
„I should have stayed in bed," I muttered to myself, crossing my arms as I watched the people surrounding me losing themselves in all that chaos.
„And miss this?", a voice said behind me. „that would have been tragic."
I turned to face that person, frowning. „Do you always have that sarcastic tone in your voice?" I asked annoyed.
He smiled at me mischievously, „Do you always talk to yourself like some crazy person?"
I laughed, trying not to, but failing. „Very Funny."
„I can tell", he said, still grinning. „I'm Davide"
„Doreen," I replied.
He hold out his hand to me. I shook it, his grip firm but casual, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile.
„You seem a little annoyed," he said, still holding my hand. „or maybe you're just an annoying person by nature?"
„And you're insufferable." I shot back immediately, with that same grin that he had on his face.
We both laughed, a short burst that felt strange and light, like the world had paused just for a moment. Somehow, it was easy with him, though also… irritating. And I didn't like how quickly tha combination got under my skin.
„You can let go now," I said, glancing down at our still joined hands.
„Oh" he looked almost surprised, like he'd forgotten. „Right. Sorry."
But when he pulled back, it wasn't awkward. It should have been. With anyone else, it would have been. Instead, there was just this lingering awareness. Like something had shifted without asking for permission.
I cleared my throat. „So, Davide," I said, trying to regain some control over this situation, "do you usually go around bothering strangers at any occasion or am I just lucky?"
„Definitely lucky" he replied without hesitation. „I only pick the most interesting people."
„Interesting?" I raised an eyebrow. „You saw me standing here complaining to myself and thought, wow she seems fascinating."
„Exactly," he said, nodding as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. „You're like a contradiction."
„That doesn't even make sense"
„It does," he hesitated „You say you hate this,"- he gusturef around us at the drifting petals, the music, the laughing crowds- „but you still showed up."
I opened my mouth to respond, then paused.
He wasn't wrong.
„I was forced," I said finally, crossing my arms again. „My friend practically dragged me out of my room."
„Ah" he said, tilting his head. „So you're the reluctant participant type."
„And you're the overly observant stranger type," I shot back.
„Guilty" he grinned.
For a moment, we just stood there, the noise of the festival swelling around us. A group of students ran past, one of them tossing a handful of cherry blossom petals into the air. They caught in my hair, and I instinctively reached up to brush them away.
„Hold on," Davide said.
Before I could react, he stepped closer, a lot closer, and gently plucked a petal from my sleeve.
My heart did something stupid. Like tripping over itself.
„There." he said softly. „You had a whole aesthetic going."
I blinked at him. „Did you just… fix my aesthetic?"
„I had to," he replied. „You looked like you were about to start a dramatic monologue about how much you hate spring."
„I do hatespring."
„No, you don't."
I frowned. „You don't know me."
„I know enough," he said. „People who really hate things don't notice them this much."
That caught me off guard.
Because he was right again.
I had noticed everything - the smell, the colors, the way the petals moved like slow snowfall. I had noticed it enough to hate it.
And maybe… it wasn't really hate.
I looked away from him, feeling a little exposed. „You're really annoying," I muttered.
„And yet you're still talking to me" he smiled.
I huffed a quiet laugh. „That's because I'm polite"
„Sure."
We started walking without really deciding to, drifting along the edge of the crowd. It felt oddly natural, like we had somewhere to be together - even though we didn't.
„So," he said after a moment, "what were you doing before I interrupted your internal monologue?"
„Judging people." I said honestly.
„Nice. Anyone in particular?"
„That couple over there," I said, nodding subtly toward a pair taking selfies under a tree. "They've taken at least thirty photos and none of them look happy."
He glanced over, then chuckeld. „You're right. That's kinda sad."
„See? I'm not complaining for no reason."
„I never said you were," he replied. „I just think you pretend not to care more than you actually don't care."
„That sentence made no sense."
„It made perfect sense."
„It didn't."
„It did."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. „You're impossible."
„And you like arguing with me."
„I do not."
„You do."
„Okey maybe a little." I admitted.
He laughed, and this time it was softer. Warmer.
We stopped near a small food stand, the smell of something sweet drifting through the air.
„Hungry?" he asked?
„No."
My stomach betrayed me with a growl.
He raised an eyebrow.
„…Maybe," I said.
„Thought so," he replied, stepping toward the stand. "Come on. I'll get you something."
„You don't have to do that."
"I know," he said. "I want to."
That made me hesitate.
I wasn't used to that—people doing things just because they wanted to. Without expecting something in return.
"Fine," I said finally. "But I get to complain about whatever you choose."
"Deal."
A few minutes later, he handed me a small skewer of something warm and glazed.
"What is this?" I asked suspiciously.
"Try it."
"That's not an answer."
"Just trust me."
I narrowed my eyes at him, then took a cautious bite.
…Okay. That was actually really good.
I tried not to show it, but he noticed anyway.
"You like it," he said, clearly pleased.
"It's… acceptable."
"Wow. High praise."
"Don't get used to it."
We stood there, sharing the skewer without thinking too much about it, and for a moment everything felt strangely quiet—even though the festival was still loud around us.
"So, Doreen," he said after a while, "what do you usually do when you're not criticizing public displays of joy?"
"I read," I said. "And write. And avoid people."
"Interesting combination."
"What about you?"
"I talk to strangers," he said.
"Obviously."
"And I play music."
That caught my attention. "What kind of music?"
"Guitar," he said. "Mostly."
"That's… kind of cool," I admitted.
"Kind of?" he repeated, mock-offended. "I'll have you know I'm extremely cool."
"I highly doubt that."
"You wound me."
"Good."
He laughed again, shaking his head. "You're mean."
"And you like it."
"Maybe I do."
The way he said it made my chest tighten slightly.
I looked down at the stick in my hands, now empty. "Thanks," I said quietly.
"For the food, or for bothering you?"
"…Both," I admitted.
He smiled at that—not his usual teasing grin, but something softer.
"You're welcome."
A breeze passed through, stronger this time, sending a swirl of petals around us. One caught in his hair, dark against the soft pink.
Without thinking, I reached up and brushed it away.
We both froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
My hand was still hovering near his face, and for a second—just a second—I forgot how to move.
"Uh," I said, pulling back quickly. "You had—there was—"
"A petal," he finished gently.
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
Our eyes met again, and this time it felt different.
Quieter.
Heavier.
Like the air had shifted.
I looked away first.
"I should probably find my friend," I said, suddenly aware of everything—of the noise, the people, the way my heart was beating a little too fast.
"Yeah," he said after a moment. "Of course."
But neither of us moved.
"This was…" I started, then stopped.
"Unexpected?" he offered.
"Yeah," I said softly. "Unexpected."
He nodded. "In a good way?"
I hesitated.
Then, "Yeah. In a good way."
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Good," he said.
Another pause.
This one felt harder.
More real.
"Well," I said, forcing a small laugh, "try not to bother too many other strangers today."
"No promises," he replied. "But I think I've already met the most interesting one."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop the smile that followed. "You're still insufferable."
"And you're still talking to me."
"Barely."
"Sure."
I took a step back, then another.
"Bye, Davide."
"Bye, Doreen."
I turned and walked away, the sound of the festival slowly swallowing everything else. I expected the moment to fade instantly—to dissolve into something small and forgettable.
But it didn't.
I could still feel it.
That strange, light, irritating, warm feeling.
And I had a feeling—
This wasn't the last time he'd bother me.