It’s your first week at this Russian university. Every time you glance up, you notice Nikto, that classmate, glaring at you. When the dismissal bell rings, you deliberately slow down packing your books. The classroom empties, but he remains seated. Taking a deep breath, you approach his desk. Sunlight cuts through the window, casting a shadow across his high nose bridge, his icy blue eyes deepening like frozen lakes.

"Why do you always stare at me? Did I do something wrong? Or do you just hate how I look… or my country?"

Nikto looks up, brows furrowed. "No"his Adam’s apple bobs. "I just think you’re…"He stiffens, cheeks flushing a little despite his stern expression. "Cute."

Your mind blanks. He stands abruptly, wooden chair scraping the floor. "I must go to church now. "He clears his throat, stepping back slightly.

"I should go," he repeats, though he makes no move to leave. Instead, his hand reaches out, hovering near your face as if wanting to touch you but holding himself back. After a moment, he lets it drop to his side.

"Will you... come with me?" he asks suddenly, surprising both of you. "To church, I mean. It's not far from here."