We kiss until there's no air left in our lungs. Every breath we take merges into one, creating a rhythm that feels eternal. When we finally pull apart, we both lie on the bed, trying to catch our breath. Our chests rise and fall, our hearts beating so hard it feels like they might burst out of our chests.
Suddenly, I burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the room, bouncing off the walls.
"Looks like it's not just Dimka who gets to kiss girls here," I blurt out, remembering how I saw him on this same bed with someone yesterday. And now here we are, Katrin and I, and it all feels so absurd and funny at the same time.
Katrin nudges my shoulder with hers, her laughter mixing with mine.
"You idiot," she says, her voice carrying no anger, only warmth and a playful lightness.
We lie side by side, and for a moment, there's silence. But it's not an awkward silence—it's something cozy, filled with understanding and calm. We just stare at the ceiling, listening as our hearts gradually slow down.
Then I turn to her, feeling my heart fill with warmth and tenderness. Slowly, so as not to startle her, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. She doesn't resist, as if she's been waiting for this moment. Her body, so fragile and warm, presses against mine, and I feel her breathing become steadier, calmer.
Her head rests on my shoulder, and her arm wraps around my waist, as if seeking support and protection. In that touch, there's so much trust, so much love, that I feel everything inside me soften. Her hair, so soft and fragrant, lightly brushes against my cheek, and I can't help but kiss the top of her head.
We lie like this for a while, savoring the moment. Everything that came before feels distant and unimportant. Right now, it's just us, our bed, and the silence that speaks louder than any words.
Rebel Girl looks at me, and in her eyes, I see a question. She doesn't say a word, but her gaze says it all: "What do you want? What do you feel? Will I stay in your life, or will you let me go?"
I want to scream that I don't know. That I'm lost. That I can't choose between the pain she's caused me and the love that still lives in me, despite everything. I want to tell her that she's my Rebel Girl, the one who always makes me feel alive, even when it hurts. But the words don't come.
And in that moment, I realize I don't want her to leave. I don't want her laughter, her smile, her presence to become just a memory.
And in that silence, I realize that, despite all the mistakes, the fights, and the pain, we still find each other. Because we're us. And no grudges can destroy what's between us.
"I'm sorry, Max," her voice is quiet, but there's a sincerity in it that cuts deep.
I know it's time to put this story to rest. Katrin has already apologized several times, and for me, that's enough. Though, honestly, her tears are enough for me—both the ones she sheds in the apartment when I leave and the ones she cries today. Each of her tears feels like a mark on my soul, heavy and unbearable, like a stone I've been dragging for far too long.
That evening, when I close the door behind me, her crying echoes through the empty hallway. I walk down the stairs, and each step reverberates in my temples, as if my heart is trying to break free from my chest. I don't look back, even though everything inside me screams for me to stop, to turn around, to hug her. But I know it would be a mistake. We both know it's the end, even if neither of us wants to admit it.
And today... today her tears are quiet, but they still cut deep into my soul.
"It's okay, I've forgiven you, my girl," I say, hinting that I'm ready to return to our past relationship.
Yes, a few days ago, I want to erase her from my life forever. But now, looking at her, I realize I don't want her to leave. Katrin is a part of me, a part of my life, and I love her. That feeling tears me in two. One half screams that I need to end things and go back to my old life, where there is no pain or resentment. The other half begs me to hug her, my Rebel Girl, and never let her go.
I look at her and feel my soul being ripped apart. Memories of our fights, of the moments when we hurt each other, flash through my mind like sharp shards. I remember how her words wound me, how I say things I later regret. But at the same time, I remember the moments when we laugh together, when her voice sounds like the most beautiful melody to me, and her touch makes me feel like I'm home.
"Does that mean I'm your girlfriend again?" Her eyes widen with surprise and hope.
"Do you want to be?" I give her the chance to decide the fate of our relationship. It's her choice, and I want her to make it consciously.
"Do I want to be your girlfriend? Yes, I do, without a doubt," her face lights up with that same smile I love so much. It's sincere, light, and filled with relief.
"Well, since there are no other candidates for the position and you're the only one, congratulations! You've got the job. Good luck and success to you," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
"Really? Oh, how wonderful! Thank you," my girl replies with the same humor, her eyes sparkling with laughter and happiness.
We both laugh, and in that moment, everything falls into place. We are together again, and that is all that matters.
Katrin lies on her side, her hand reaching for my T-shirt. She carefully lifts it to look at the place where her "mischief" goes wrong. Her eyes grow serious when she sees the red mark on my chest.
"Max, I really don't want it to end like this," her fingers gently touch the skin around the inflammation. "I'll never do something like that again. I promise."
"I believe you," I look into her eyes. "But let's agree: no more experiments, okay?"
Rebel Girl nods, her lips trembling into a smile.
"Deal," she presses herself against me, her head resting on my shoulder.
Her gaze drifts down to the place where her little prank backfired. On my chest, a bright red burn stands out, now seeming to her not just a mark of an allergic reaction but a reminder of her carelessness.
"What else did the doctor say?" she asks, frowning slightly. Her voice is quiet, almost apologetic, as if she is afraid to hear something unpleasant.
Noticing her expression, I decide to lighten the mood a little.
"She asks how I got such a beautiful allergic burn. I tell her I'm so hot that even my chest starts getting burns," I say with a smirk, hoping to make her smile. "But she doesn't appreciate my joke."
Her face, however, lights up with a slight smile, and a warm glint appears in her eyes.
"Well, I appreciate it," Katrin teases me lightly. "What does she really say?"
"The doctor checks me out, says I'm allergic to some components. She gives me some ointment and pills. I only start using it today because I saw her this morning," I speak calmly, not wanting to make her worry more.
"And how long will it stay this bright red?" Her voice sounds slightly anxious, as if this mark will remain for a long time, a reminder of her mistake.
I smile, trying to reassure her.
"Less than a week, and then it'll fade," my voice is encouraging.
I see her face relax slightly, and relief appears in her eyes. She nods, as if accepting my words, and lies down next to me, feeling the tension gradually fade away, leaving room for quiet comfort and warmth that we share in this moment.
I decide to change the subject, feeling the tension between us growing, like a cloud before a storm. My voice sounds a bit sharper than I intend, but I can't hold back the jealousy and worry that overwhelm me.
"So, where have you been? Which clubs do you go to while I'm away?" I don't want to think about the possibility of her being somewhere without me, especially in places where things could go wrong, like they did on my first night at a club.
Rebel Girl looks at me, and a shadow of exhaustion flickers in her eyes, as if she's worn out not just physically but emotionally too. Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but every word echoes in my head.
"I haven't been anywhere further than the liquor store. I stay home and drink."
Her confession feels like it crashes down on me, but, to my surprise, I feel relief. It makes me happy because I don't want to know that she is somewhere without me, especially in places where things could spiral out of control. Deep down, I know it's unhealthy to feel glad that she is alone and drinking, but at that moment, it seems like the lesser evil.
I sigh, trying to ease the tension, and steer the conversation toward something more neutral.
"Are you coming to classes with me tomorrow, or are you skipping again?" I try to sound softer.
I want her to be close, so I can be sure she's okay.
Katrin smiles, but her smile feels more like an attempt to hide something rather than a genuine expression of joy.
"Well, not everyone has seen my new wardrobe yet, so I guess I have to go and show it off," she tries to turn it into a joke.
But I can see that there's more behind that joke. It seems like, after everything that's happened, her new wardrobe doesn't matter to her at all. Her words sound like an attempt to distract herself, a way to escape the reality that seems to be pressing down on her from all sides.
"Well, I'll wake you up in the morning. If you're still here, of course," I say, unsure of what she'll choose.
My voice sounds uncertain because I don't know if she'll want to stay or if she'll prefer to take a taxi home. I search for an answer in her eyes, but they seem closed off to me, as if she herself doesn't know what she wants.