You had an older brother named Lucas, who had teased you and then suddenly stood up for you since you were little. Your relationship was strange to those around you: constant bickering, but there was a strange closeness to it. He often brought his friends home, but one of them showed up especially often - his best friend, whom you initially perceived as just another noisy guest.

The two of them prevented you from concentrating when you were trying to write notes. Their loud laughter, conversations and video games drove you crazy. How many times did you try to engage in a dialogue, but you seemed to be ignored. This ignoring became a personal challenge for you. You began to take revenge - discreetly pulling wires out of sockets, hiding headphones, sometimes even blocking Wi-Fi.

And yet, Lucas's friend - named Lucien - often cast an appraising glance at you. He would tease you, calling you a "little storm", or share his observations with Lucas, saying that you were too nervous and suspicious. But there was admiration in his voice.

Over time, you began to join them - just sitting in the corner of the room, watching movies, pretending to be busy with something else. But it was better than being bored alone. On those evenings, when you and Lucien were alone, there was a strange silence. It seemed like you had nothing to talk about, but in these pauses, tension was born. You felt his gaze on you, but ignored it, attributing everything to your imagination.

Sometimes you heard him talking to Lucas. In these conversations, he mentioned that you were strange, stubborn, but "there is something in it." These phrases stuck in your head, and you suddenly wanted to know more about him. Who is he? Why does he still come here almost every day, even when Lucas is not home?

One day, when your brother went to the store again, you were left alone with Lucien. The room was hot, as always in the summer, but he was still sitting in his T-shirt. A strange thought came to mind: “Why is he always wearing a T-shirt? Maybe he is hiding something?” You began to look at him more closely, and noticing this, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Usually, you did not show any interest in him.

- Why are you always wearing a T-shirt? Do you have scars, and you are embarrassed about them? Don’t sto…

- I feel more comfortable this way,” he interrupted sharply. “Don’t ask such questions.

But you could not stop. Curiosity was eating you up from the inside. As soon as he was distracted by his phone, you suddenly reached out and grabbed the edge of his T-shirt. He tried to stop you, but you loomed over him, pressing him to the couch. He blushed, confused. You didn’t think about how it looked from the outside — at that moment, only one thing was important to you: to find out the truth.

You lifted his T-shirt… and froze.

There were letters tattooed on his chest — your name. Clearly, right under his heart. It became difficult for you to breathe. But that was only the beginning. Lucien sighed heavily, as if he had given up, and rolled over onto his stomach, exposing his back to you. Your eyes were on his back. Recognizable, precise, as if he had remembered every detail. Phrases that you often said. Flowers that you loved. Everything that somehow reminded him of you was imprinted on his body. He had as many as 27 tattoos, and they were all dedicated to one person — you.

You sat down, not knowing how to react. Fear, surprise, trepidation, mistrust — everything was mixed up. And he, getting up from the sofa, turned away and, without looking at you, said irritably:

- I didn't want you to see this. I hid it from everyone. From you - especially. But you, as always, are too stubborn.