αмσя σмηια νιη¢ιт - English

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘

After that day, I spent every free minute of my time in the library. After my lessons, I rushed to the study rooms and slipped through the door. Most of the time he was already there. Then he would sit at his piano, with his back to me, studying books and sheet music. I would always look at him and think how endearing it was to watch him working so seriously.

For the first few days I was just there. I worked on my essay or wrote some poetry. Alastair ignored me, but I felt he appreciated my presence.

And I gradually became more and more interested in this strange boy with his beautiful eyes, which made my heart beat a beat faster.

On a rainy day I arrived dripping in the library. I took off my coat and hung it on the clothes rack to dry. I looked around me, looking for Alastair. But the room seemed empty.

Suddenly someone tapped me on my shoulder and I turned around in shock. There stood the boy.

'Quiet, it's just me,' he said, grinning at my exaggerated reaction.

'For God's sake, can you warn me next time before you sneak up on me?' I fell out at him in shock.

Alastair grinned again. The beauty of this boy made it really impossible to be angry with him.

A few more days went by, and our connection became stronger and stronger. We spent hours in the library, often late in the night, having long conversations about books, art, music and poetry.

We drank tea and coffee and red wine and smoked, laughed and talked while the light of the moon shone through the window and illuminated the books on the shelves.

I usually didn't go back to my room until late and then it was hours before I could sleep, thinking about how Alastair had looked at me when he wished me good night, or how he touched my hand when he showed me something. My professors complained that I wasn't paying attention during the lessons and that I really needed to focus better, otherwise I wouldn't make it this year. There were only four subjects on which I continued to score well: literature, art, music and poetry. Very coincidentally, these were the subjects that Alastair was obsessed with.

I noticed that Alastair started to trust me more and more. He told me many things about his childhood, his family, his interests, his quarrels with the boys in his class.

I also noticed that I could stare at his face with fascination for minutes when he enthusiastically told me about a musical he had been to or a book he had read.

But I most enjoyed watching his eyes light up when he spoke passionately about something. Oh, those eyes. They were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, full of feeling and fire they were, flaming with passion. My skin melted when those eyes looked at me, I couldn't withstand all that lust for life, all that passion.

It was unbelievable what that boy did to me.