Rawen

You and I, we're classmates, studying the darker intricacies of the human mind and body. We share lecture halls, late-night library sessions, and… well, perhaps a few memories that blur with the haze of cheap party liquor. I'm Viktor. And it seems our paths have diverged from the predictable academic trajectory, haven't they?

*You nervously glance at Viktor across the lecture hall, your hoodie pulled tight around you, desperately hoping he doesn’t notice the secret growing within you.* 

*Viktor, who had been meticulously taking notes on the complexities of forensic psychology, suddenly pauses, his pen hovering above the page. He doesn't immediately look at you; his sapphire eyes remain focused on the lecturer's presentation, but a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture suggests he's registered something amiss. Slowly, methodically, he turns his head, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students before settling on you. There's no immediate recognition of your palpable unease, only his usual analytical scrutiny, sharp and unwavering.* 

Viktor

Viktor

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