***

The winter holidays were over.

The fireworks had faded. The Christmas carols had ceased. Santa, having emptied his sack, had returned to Lapland, leaving behind unfinished milk, cookie crumbs, and reindeer droppings on the rooftops. And New York, shaking off the magical dust of holiday wonders, donned a business suit and returned to work, sinking back into its usual routine.

For Amis, sitting in an empty house and mindlessly switching TV channels made no sense. So, he decided to return to academy a few days before the start of classes.

The corridors of the educational institution were deserted and so quiet that his own breathing seemed deafeningly loud. Those whom their parents had taken home for the holidays were in no hurry to return. And those who were "lucky" enough to stay at the academy probably didn't want to part with their warm blankets and pillows at such an early hour.

Amis, however, wanted to have some fun and at the same time entertain his dear friend, who must have grown bored without his attention over the past few days.

After throwing his bag into his room and noting that his roommate had not yet arrived, Amis set out in search of "adventures." And, to his surprise, he found them faster than he expected.

He immediately recognized the voices echoing in the corridor. So, to avoid attracting the attention of the first-year mentor, Amis quickly hid around the corner, listening to the conversation. What he heard brought a sly smile to his lips.

Now all that remained was to wait for the teacher to leave and clear the way. As soon as Mr. Eigert, accompanied by the redheaded nuisance, walked into the hall, Amis slipped into the corridor and headed towards the geography classroom.

Each step closer to the door echoed in his temples with a resounding throb. His heart seemed to go wild with anticipation, creating a real storm in his chest. His fingers trembled as they gripped the cold handle, and before pulling the door open, Amis held his breath.

There was no one else in the room except Irman. The freshman sat at one of the desks, resting his cheek on his palm, looking out the window at the snowy yard and the trees bending under the strong gusts of wind.

There was something about his appearance that sent a thrilling shiver down Amis's spine, filling his heart with joy and sheer happiness.

Surprisingly, Irman didn't react to another person entering the room. This was more than strange.

Always tense, as if expecting a blow or an attack, at this moment the guy seemed unusually relaxed and calm. A bit disheveled, as if he had just woken up, and endearingly distracted.

Amis gazed at Irman's handsome profile, his mind swirling with a thousand questions.

"What is he thinking about? What dark recesses has his soul wandered into? Will it find its way out? Or will it get lost among fears and despair?"

Amis silently watched the guy, his heart aching with sorrow.

He wanted to ask, he wanted to know, but...

Irman would never open up to him. He would never say what he was thinking, never share his feelings. After all, nobody shares their secrets with the executioner. And Amis had caused Irman too much pain.

The guy understood this but couldn't stop. His heart dictated its own rules, and Amis recklessly followed its call, forgetting about everything else.

"Irman? What a surprise!"

He closed the door behind him with a loud bang and spread a wide grin as the sound of his voice made the guy flinch.

"You again?" Irman slowly turned his head and fixed his gaze on the hated face of the sophomore.

Setton nodded, continuing to smirk. A flame of inexhaustible enthusiasm burned in his dark eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, and this did not bode well.

"You better back off!" Irman warned harshly, hoping to deter the persistent bastard. "I'm not in the mood."

"Is that so?" Amis raised an eyebrow mockingly and, ignoring the guy's scorching gaze, slowly walked towards him.

His heart pounded like a blacksmith's hammer in his chest. Adrenaline spread through his body, absorbing into his blood like deadly poison. And something entirely crazy was happening with his breathing.

"But I am in the mood," Amis whispered, leaning close to Irman's ear, his breath searing the skin on guy's cheek.

Irman shuddered at the sophomore's proximity. As blood rushed to his head, the world before his eyes turned scarlet, and it felt as if all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He parted his lips, trying to take a deep breath.

In his thoughts, Dr. Wayne's voice buzzed like an annoying bee:

"Try to be at least a little humane! Maybe this guy has feelings for you."

"What do you want from me, Setton?" Irman asked hoarsely, looking into the sophomore's eyes and struggling with all his might to keep from punching him in the face.

Amis's heart ached treacherously.

An intense storm of desires raged in his soul. Amis wanted to touch Irman, to feel the warmth of his skin, to catch his breath with his lips, and to plunge into the boiling tar of his passion... but all he could get was rage and the hatred brimming in those blue eyes. This torment pained Amis's soul, and his mind melted, pushing him to utterly idiotic actions.

"I just want to chat," Amis replied, hiding his true feelings deep in his heart, and sat on the edge of the desk next to Irman. "Is that so wrong?"

Irman only shrugged irritably and turned away, clenching the fingers of his right hand into a fist.

"By the way, why are you alone?" Amis asked with barely concealed mockery in his voice, realizing that Irman was not in the mood for conversation. "Where's Sadis? Did you two have a fight?"

Irman frowned.

"What's it to you?" he asked, glaring at the flowerpot on the window sill.

"Well, why do you think?" Amis feigned surprise. "You're sitting here all alone. Disheveled... unkempt... it's obvious you've had a rather intense and heated... um... conversation with the teacher. Tell me, did he do it with his pointer... or did he, as an exception, use something thicker?"

Irman felt the blood drain from his face.

"Shut your mouth!" he growled threateningly.

Dr. Wayne's voice in his mind grew fainter. His thoughts were dissolving, melting into a crimson fog of rage. Only the sophomore's face stood out brightly through the scarlet veil of hatred before his eyes.

In an instant, Irman's pupils dilated, drowning the blue of his eyes in an impenetrable darkness from which death itself seemed to smirk at Amis. He could swear he felt its thirst, the icy touch of its bony fingers on his skin, but he couldn't stop now.

"What, did I guess right this time?" Amis asked mockingly, feeling each word burn his tongue and tear at his throat. "So how's our geography teacher? Passionate? Though, why am I even asking? Of course, he is. Otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting here waiting for seconds."

Irman didn't even realize how he flipped the desk along with Amis. Setton flailed helplessly in the air and, falling on his back, groaned in pain as the metal legs hit his thigh.

Amis tried to push the desk off himself, but Irman was quicker, kicking it aside. Then he bent over Amis and grabbed him by the collar, easily lifting him to his feet.

Irman's eyes blazed with fury. His lips were pale and pressed into a thin line. He lifted Setton off the ground, feeling an overwhelming urge to smash his head against the wall, and rasped:

"Want to die, freak? I'll gladly help you."

Heat radiated from Irman's fingers. Even through the shirt, Amis could feel how hot his skin was. It made his head spin. His throat was dry. And from the fierce, hate-filled gaze of the freshman, his skin prickled as if touched by the most tender and sensual caresses.

A sharp ache pulsed in his groin, and Amis bit his lip.

He knew it was abnormal, he knew it was all wrong... but could the heart be ordered not to feel?

Amis wanted all of Irman's attention to belong to him alone. And if that meant sacrificing his life, well... Amis was not opposed.

"Why are you so worked up?" Laughter escaped his lips, but his soul was crying. "Didn't Sadis satisfy you? Want me to take his place? Anything for... you."

"You're such a bastard..."

Irman clenched his left hand into a fist and swung, hitting the sophomore in the stomach, making him double over in pain and cough. Blood-tinged foam appeared on Amis's smiling lips, which only enraged Irman further.

He repeated the punch twice until Setton spat a clot of blood onto the floor, and only then did he push him away in disgust.

"So, did you like it?" Irman asked, drowning in the raging fury that engulfed his consciousness, not letting him calm down.

The pain that pierced Amis's body cramped his insides, and his tongue burned with salt.

But compared to what was happening in his heart, all this was a trifle. An insignificant detail, unworthy of attention and incapable of stopping the words that would sooner or later lead to his voice being forever silenced by another blow.

"Loved it," Amis rasped, spitting out the blood that had collected in his mouth.

Irman gritted his teeth and wanted to unclench his fingers to release Amis's shirt, but the guy didn't allow it. He grabbed Irman's wrist and jerked forward, catching Irman by the neck with one hand and pulling him close.

"What's the matter?" he whispered, brushing the guy's earlobe with his lips, almost fainting with delight that he managed, albeit clumsily, to kiss Irman. "What about the follow-up? I want more. You're not going to stop at foreplay, are you?"

Irman froze, unable to even take a shallow breath.

Setton was so close. His crimson lips smelled of blood. His breath was searing. And in his gaze was a challenge and a profound longing, behind which lurked something else, something faintly familiar and terrifying to the core.

Irman struck again, but this time he put all his anger into the blow.

Amis made a strange gurgling sound and loosened his weakened fingers, stepping back and barely maintaining his balance.

His dark eyes were clouded with mist, and he staggered, pressing his hand to his stomach.

Irman exhaled heavily. His skin burned from the other's touch, itched from the lingering trace, and he desperately wanted to scrape off those patches, to never again experience such sensations.

Irman shuddered with revulsion. Nausea rose in his throat like a lump, and a profound sense of disgust at the situation grew in his soul.

"Freak! I hope you die!" the guy roared, retreating and overturning desks and chairs in an uncontrolled urge to destroy the world that harbored bastards like this one.

Years of therapy. Months of confinement in a mental hospital. Lectures, trainings, procedures... endless brainwashing. And all for what? So some scum could shake his composure with just a few words?

His thoughts tangled into a sticky mess. Irman let out a feral roar, trying to vent his anger somehow.

He backed away until he bumped into a flower stand, which he immediately knocked to the floor in fury. Then he kicked the pot that had miraculously survived the fall and stood there, drenched in sweat and rolling his eyes wildly.

"I'll kill you!" Irman said, addressing Setton, who continued to bore into him with his gaze. "You hear me? Touch me again, and I'll tear you to pieces!"

Amis shook his head.

His vision was blurred. There was a constant buzzing in his head. And nausea rose in his throat.

Pain spread through his body, penetrating every cell, bringing tears to his eyes. But what hurt even more was seeing Irman, like a wounded animal, thrashing around the classroom, overturning everything in his path.

"Herder, you've already told me that," Amis rasped, barely able to move his tongue. "Maybe you should just admit you can't live without me, and we can seal our bond with a passionate kiss?"

Amis had been told many times that one day he would choke on his own words. But now, seeing Irman grab the leg of the chair he had overturned in a fit of rage, those warnings made sense.

The piece of furniture flew through the air and hurtled toward Amis, who barely managed to dodge it.

The window shattered with a crash. Sharp shards of glass fell to the floor, and the chair was stuck in the frame like an art installation by a deranged sculptor.

But Irman didn't stop there. While Amis was assessing the extent of the chaos, the guy rushed at him and with a powerful blow to the chest sent him flying across the classroom.

Well, well! This time Irman was indeed generous with his touches, not hesitating to touch him three whole times.

A foolish thought crossed Amis's mind, reflected in a smile that even the hellish pain shooting through his back couldn't erase as he crashed into the cabinet. Groaning loudly, he was practically buried under books, atlases, maps, and notebooks. To top it all off, a globe crowned him.

The heavy sphere bounced off Amis's head, rolled to Irman's feet, who kicked it away like a soccer ball. Grabbing a chair leg, he clenched it tightly as if holding a baseball bat.

A smile touched Amis's lips, while Irman's face contorted with such fury that his handsome features suddenly seemed like an ugly mask.

Amis wanted to tell him this, but a short, astonished whistle that broke the silence, only interrupted by Irman's ragged breathing and his own near-death wheezing, stopped him.

"Herder, I'm really going to miss you."

Joss's voice was filled with genuine regret, but Amis was only angered by the outsider's interference.

"Get the hell out of here!" Irman didn't even turn to his friend, and Amis's smile grew even wider.

It meant he was more important than the ubiquitous Joss. It meant he was more interesting and valuable.

"Irman, have you completely lost it? Sadis will be back soon, and then you..."

Joss wouldn't stop, and Irman was almost distracted from Amis, intending to turn to his friend, but Amis didn't allow it.

"Hey, Herder!" the sophomore's words dripped with mockery and venom. "I'm starting to get jealous."

"Shut up, freak!" Irman's voice wavered.

Controlling himself was becoming increasingly difficult with each passing moment. Irman took a few steps towards Setton, swinging the chair leg, and said with all seriousness:

"One more word and you're dead!"

"Oh! What a sweetheart you are!" ignoring his warnings, Amis started his taunting again. "Come on, come to me, I've missed you so much these days..."

"Irman, don't!" Arrek's voice made the class leader slow down, and Sadis's shout pinned him in place.

"What the hell is going on here?! Have you completely lost your minds, you little bastards?!"

Irman felt a chill in his soul and slowly turned his head, looking in horror at the man approaching him.

The teacher was clearly furious about the destruction in his classroom, but his face remained impassive. Only his eyes, blazing with fury, betrayed his true feelings.

"Herder, how do you plan to pay for all this destruction?" Sadis asked threateningly. "Your father has cut off funding for your mischief. There's not a cent left in your account."

Hearing this statement, Irman dropped the chair and stared at the man, feeling an unbearable heaviness in his legs, which for some reason refused to obey him.

So, his father had indeed kept his promise and refused to cover the costs of the damaged property. This meant that Sadis would no longer hold back and would punish him severely, which, given the scale of the destruction, could land him in the hospital for a long time.

From the threat emanating from the teacher, Amis's back broke out in a sweat. He was too well acquainted with Mr. Eigert's disciplinary methods, and judging by the steely gleam in his gray eyes, those methods were about to be put into action.

Amis pushed one of the globes away, drawing the teacher's attention to himself, and stood up. He straightened his clothes and pulled a credit card from his back pocket.

"Wow! It's intact!" he said with unconcealed surprise and hurried toward the man.

If it was just about money, then there wouldn't be a problem.

"This should be enough to cover all the damage," Amis placed the card on the teacher's desk and took a step back.

But Sadis only smiled predatorily and, whipping out a pointer, swung it in the air. The thin metal sliced through the air with a soft whoosh, and Amis swallowed hard, noticing how Irman rapidly paled, not taking his eyes off the glinting rod.

"Put that away immediately."

The thin end of the pointer nudged the card back towards Amis, and this seemingly harmless gesture made him feel sick.

If Sadis was refusing the financial compensation for the damage to his classroom, it meant he would demand a very different payment.

"And leave the classroom," the man said calmly but with a threatening look. "I will deal with you later. As for you, Herder, stay..."

At these words, Amis could almost physically feel Irman's terror. The guy couldn't respond, couldn't even blink, like a small animal frozen in front of a hypnotizing snake.

Yet Irman's stupor didn't last long.

"Teacher... I will compensate for everything," he said, involuntarily stepping back on unsteady legs.

"Of course, you will," Sadis grinned.

And Amis felt a cold shiver inside from the teacher's grin.

"Joss, Umino, out!" the man ordered and turned to Irman.

A moment later, the thin metal rod struck Herder's back several times with deliberate force.

Amis's body reacted faster than his mind. He rushed to the teacher and hung onto his arm, preventing the pointer from striking the guy again.

"Take the money and leave him alone!" he demanded.

But neither his words nor his actions had any effect on the man.

Sadis simply shook Amis off like an annoying fly and lashed the pointer across Irman's back again.

The guy howled, biting his lip until a bright red drop of blood appeared. And Amis felt terror grip his body and cloud his mind.

"Stop it!" Amis's own voice sounded broken and crackly to him, like glass crunching underfoot. "He's got nothing to do with this! It's my fault! Punish me."

Amis tried once more to grab Sadis's arm but failed again.

"And what do you think I'm doing?" the man looked at the sophomore dismissively, as if seeing right through him.

Noticing that Herder was trying to get up, he knocked him back down with another blow of the pointer.

Irman groaned in agony and froze, preferring not to move anymore.

When he first heard about Sadis Eigert's "disciplinary" methods, he hadn't taken them seriously.

He wasn't afraid of pain, and a hit with a metal rod didn't seem like such a terrible punishment. However, at the first acquaintance with Sadis's pointer, Irman felt not just pain but a fiery stinging kiss that electrified all his nerve endings, making him collapse to his knees and silently beg for mercy.

Since then, Irman had tried not to anger the teacher. But today, thanks to Setton, he was subjected to this torment again.

Yet the sophomore's behavior surprised him, and he watched the guy's actions from under half-closed eyelids, clenching his fists tightly.

Setton looked at the teacher with a strange mix of indignation and hatred. And when Sadis took a short step towards Irman, the guy blocked his path.

"You're only making it worse," the teacher warned the sophomore. "The more you interfere, the harsher the punishment will be."

Amis knew that his stubbornness was only aggravating the situation, but he still didn't move. Instead, Mr. Eigert did. He simply stepped to the side and swung the pointer again. But this time the blow didn't reach its target. Amis took it upon himself, nearly falling onto Irman but managing to shield him without touching him.

"Enough! Enough, I get it!" he yelled, nearly losing his voice from the incredible pain piercing his body. "I've learned my lesson!"

"We both know that's not true," Sadis continued to taunt. "Do you think I believe this mess will stop?"

Amis opened his mouth to respond, but the man shot him a heavy glance, cutting off any attempt to say a word, and turned his gaze to Irman.

"Herder, get up!" he ordered the guy who had been pretending to be dead.

Irman had no choice but to stand up and straighten his aching back.

"Clean up this mess," Sadis gestured around the classroom with the pointer and took the plastic card belonging to Amis from the desk. Then, addressing the sophomore, he said, "You can collect it from the principal when you need it. And you, Herder, this is your last warning: break anything else, and you'll face a public punishment."

"Yes, sir," Irman responded in a hollow voice.

Sadis glared at him for a few moments before turning and leaving the classroom.

Irman clenched his fists and, turning away from Setton, began to pick up the scattered atlases from the floor.

Each bend sent pain shooting through his back, and Irman shuddered, biting his lips to keep from groaning.

Amis watched Sadis leave with a heavy gaze and, when the door closed behind the man, turned to Irman, who had started cleaning.

Amis could see that the guy was barely standing. He had received only one blow, but it was enough for his back to feel like it was on fire, and his fingers on his left hand were numb. So he could only imagine how hard it was for Irman right now. And because of this, he felt guilty.

"Hey, you should... sit down for a bit," Amis said, stumbling over his words, and approached the guy to help him gather the items that had fallen out of the cabinet. "I'll clean up."

"Get lost," Irman growled, but not very angrily, as he had no strength left. "The classroom is big. Go clean somewhere else."

"Herder, you need to go to the infirmary," Amis began again, but Irman interrupted him.

"Just get the hell away from me!" the guy almost howled and threw a book at Amis. "Just leave! Go! Disappear from my life already!"

Any other time, Amis would have laughed at these words. But in the guy's deep blue eyes, he saw something that sent a shiver down his spine and made sweat break out on his temples.

Amis rarely found himself at a loss for words. But now he felt tongue-tied. And to avoid making the already miserable situation worse, he slowly nodded and, standing up, headed for the exit.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered silently, gripping the door handle and pressing his forehead against the cool wood. "I'm sorry, Herder, but I won't leave you alone."

Hot tears touched his pale cheeks. And wiping the mixed blood and tears with his sleeve, Amis pushed the door open, leaving Irman alone.

Thank you for reading our story!

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