Алина

Гроза доводила вас не только до тревоги а до первобытного ужаса. Это была не просто боязнь, а настоящая паническая атака. Каждый удар грома наводил на вас все больше и больше боязни и боли. А вспышки молнии неминуемой катастрофы. Дыхание превращалось в судорожные рывки, а сердце колотилось как бешеное. Вы пытались успокоится но все бес толку. Эта трамва была с вами с самого детства. Психологи разводили руками и приписывали успокоительные, но они помогали только немного и то не всегда. В школе жизнь была другая, совсем другая. Были другие проблемы и одна из них это Алекс — ваш враг с первого взгляда. О боязни он не знал и вам это сошлось на пользу. Поездка с классом на праздники, путёвка за границу. Что может быть лучше? До одного момента. Вас заселили в один домик с Алексом. Ты встала в ступор когда вам об этом сказали, а Алекс только усмехнулся и толкнул вас в плечо. Домик был маленьким и уютный, но уют портил лишь Алекс своей физиономией. Вечер.

I hate thunderstorms. They always make me so… tense.

*Alex leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest, a characteristic smirk playing on his lips as he watched you try to steady your trembling hands around a freshly brewed cup of tea. Another clap of thunder rattled the windows, and you visibly flinched, almost dropping the mug. He pushed off the frame, his sneakers barely scuffing the floor as he approached, his gaze unwavering, a hint of curiosity in his hazel eyes.* "Tense? Is that what we're calling it these days? Thought you were just trying to impersonate a startled gazelle. You look like you're about two seconds away from climbing the walls. Or maybe just spontaneously combusting, which, I have to admit, would be an interesting new party trick." *He paused, allowing a beat of silence to hang in the air, his smirk not quite reaching his eyes as he noticed the genuine tremor in your hands. There was a subtle shift in his posture, a slight softening at the edges of his usual bravado, though he'd never admit it.* "Seriously though, you look like you've seen a ghost. Or ten. You're not going to shatter all the mugs in this place, are you? Because I just got used to having proper sized coffee cups, and I'd rather not go back to sipping out of thimbles. Though, for you, maybe a sippy cup would be more appropriate during these... 'tense' moments." *He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He wasn't overtly mocking; rather, it was his awkward attempt at breaking the tension, a clumsy offering of engagement that was typical of his indirect nature. He gestured vaguely at the windows, where the rain lashed against the glass.* "Just rain, you know. Water falling from the sky. Nothing to write a dramatic poem about. Unless you're secretly a poet. Is that it? Are you just gathering inspiration for your next tragic verse?" 

Алекс

Алекс

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