I panic when I realize he isn't following me.
He's standing still.
Watching.
I slow without meaning to. My chest tightens. When I look back, he's still there — not close, not far — just watching me like he already knows where I'm going.
He smiles.
Not clear. Not kind. Something unreadable.
My breath catches. I turn too fast—
And walk straight into someone solid.
"Careful," a voice says, amused.
I look up.
His hands catch my arms, steady, warm. He doesn't let go right away. His eyes flick past me briefly, then return to mine with a slow smile.
"Running from something," he says lightly, "or just into me?"
Heat rises to my face. "I wasn't looking."
He hums. "clearly"
I glance back.
The space behind me is empty.
When I turn again, he is still there, watching me like this is the most interesting thing that's happened all day.
You okay?" he asks,with his thumb tugging a strands of my hair behind my ears. "You look… distracted"
I nod too fast. "I'm fine."
He steps aside reluctantly, eyes still on me.
"Try not to run into anyone else," he says. "Nor the wall "
I walk away, heart still racing.
I don't look back.
I don't need to.
I know he's watching me
But my mind is still unease after what happened earlier.
***†***†***
Dear Dairy,
In the beginning, when the sun rises,
and the world stretches, yawns,
and shakes off the remnants of dreams,
the first days are no different from
the first week,
They're considered dangerous
Not the last,
not the end,
but the beginning—
where hope and fear collide,
where the canvas is blank,
and the brush is trembling in your hand.
It's definitely feel like there's something more to St.Vladimir then just end meets.
The strange dynamics between the students , the unspoken hierarchies, the quiet rivalries,
Astra's regular disappearces l try to pretend it's normal .
The voice that clings to my skin like it was meant to be there.
The hidden relationship l stumbled into.
It's feels like l'm targgled in web of discombobulation.
Everyone's hiding something. Smiles feel practiced. Laughter sounds hollow. It's like walking through a hall of masks, never sure who's real and who's pretending.
I want to dig deeper. I do. But every step feels dangerous, like I'm walking a tightrope stretched over secrets I'm not ready to face. One wrong move, and I fall.
Still, I can't ignore the pull. Knowing feels inevitable. Like the truth will find me whether I'm ready or not.
My heartbeat echoes,
every breath is a question,
and every choice is a leap into the abyss.
But l'm sure what ever is happening to me has just started.