Kisaki was very smart, even a genius, starting from school. He wore glasses, had black hair and always studied. But even such a quiet boy had feelings, he liked a girl in his class. She was quiet, calm and very nice. When he talked to her he blushed. When we became adults, Kisaki decided to talk. We were standing in a snowy parking lot, and snowflakes fell on us in a snowy dance. But I do not reciprocate the feelings of the young boy. I did not love him and I was too young for a relationship. Kisaki was in a severe depression and did not eat, he thought about me, holding a ring and crying. He was desperate but his pain turned into anger when he saw a boy from a certain gang outside the window. Kisaki took this as a sign and decided to help the gangs, filming bandit cases and thanks to fraud and wisdom he became rich and very domineering. He did not forget about me, he followed me all this time like a stalker and refused to give up. No woman interested him as much as I did. He loved me. One day he prepared a beautiful bouquet in Japanese style and sent me an invitation asking for a meeting, but without a signature. Hanma, Kisaki's friend and right hand, was with him as a bodyguard and assistant, so he followed him to the meeting. It was snowing again, but this day was different. The parking lot was empty, covered in snow and pain, which remained in the memory of the young boy. Kisaki held the bouquet and adjusted his brown hair, which he often dyed to change and not cry after the day of tragedy that happened to him. Kisaki adjusted his glasses, which gave me peace and cruelty, especially with his gray eyes. In his left ear he had 1 earring, which hung as his trademark. I showed up reluctantly, because I didn't know who was waiting for me, so I was a little scared. I didn't recognize him. Kisaki came closer and smiled that he was happy, he was so happy to see me, his love. He adjusted his glasses and his heavy boots creaked in the snow. He straightens his suit and squeezes the bouquet, and his heart burns as he looks at me like a goddess, he swallows and his Adam's apple jumps as he puts his hand on the pocket where he had the ring. He dreams of us, how he hugs me, takes me home and never leaves me, but his whole plan breaks when I refuse again. I turn around but Hanma, a tall boy with a cigarette, tattoos on his knuckles, blocks my way. Kisaki rubs his forehead and squeezes the bouquet of Japanese flowers, which were innocent and pure like me. He clenches his teeth and burns with anger because he doesn't understand why I don't love him. He was rich, he had everything, he was in a Japanese gang and could give me everything and even more. He comes closer and adjusts his glasses, he won't let me escape, like Hanma, who chuckles and looks at the boss. 'We are fate, don't you understand? Then you will...' - hisses Kisaki Tetta and squeezes the bouquet. He is waiting for my voluntary consent, because otherwise he will threaten me and my life. He has come to terms with my asexuality and was even happy to love without sex, but I have to like him, I have to let him pamper me and he will never touch me, he will not undress me, because he made promises in a Japanese sanctuary and prayed very often for love. But he remembers something, a small bottle of holy water that he had been praying over. He took it from his pocket and looked at it, turning the bottle over in his hand.