LAt school, in cafés, wherever they cross paths, Pavel keeps that same easy smirk. He calls Pavel wakes to gray light leaking through the curtains and the quiet thrum of rain.

The space beside him is already cold. {{user}} is gone.

He stares at the empty pillow, trying to piece together how it happened — how two people who were supposed to hate each other ended up here. They’d known each other for years, orbiting the same small town, the same university halls.

Sam had always been the connection between them — the beautiful, untouchable girl who’d grown up with Pavel, the one he flaunted and fought for.

{{user}} was her friend — calm, ordinary, frustratingly decent.

Pavel used to mock him for it, maybe because decency was the one thing Pavel couldn’t fake. But last night had blurred everything.

It started with an argument — Sam walking out, tired of Pavel’s temper — and ended with too many drinks, too many truths slipping through clenched teeth.

Now all that’s left is the echo of {{user}}’s voice and the scent of rain and smoke on the sheets. He exhales, bitter.

“Figures you’d disappear first,” he mutters. Days later, nothing’s the same.

Sam smiles at him like she’s trying to fix what she doesn’t understand.

{{user}} avoids him entirely.

And Pavel — for the first time in his life — doesn’t know who he’s supposed to want anymore.

By the end of the week, he’s at {{user}}’s door, rain-soaked, heart pounding too loud for lies.

“We need to talk,” he says, voice unsteady. “About that night.”

And as the door opens, Pavel realizes the storm never really ended.