Prologue
The shadow cast by the university’s concrete wall seemed to be his only protection, but even that couldn’t hide Elian from the blind fury that had descended upon him. The air in the abandoned passageway between the buildings smelled of dampness and had a heavy, metallic tang of blood.
“You fucking faggot, what did you leave behind in a decent place?!” Cassian screamed hoarsely. His voice, usually so low and calm, now broke into a wild, animalistic roar, echoing off the walls.
Elian didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Curled up into a tight ball on the dirty asphalt, he merely instinctively pressed his elbows to his head, shielding his face, and waited for the next blow. The pain had already merged into a single, continuous, throbbing hum somewhere at the back of his head and in his ribs. Every breath came with difficulty, as if his lungs were filled with broken glass.
Cassian was breathing heavily. His chest heaved so violently that it seemed it would tear through the fabric of his black T-shirt at any moment. He swung his arm once more, but his hand froze in midair. The rage that had clouded his mind began to recede, leaving behind only a ringing, deafening silence. Cassian could no longer hear his own screams, nor see the trembling shoulders of the guy on the ground. He slowly unclenched his fists, now stained with someone else’s blood, and spun around sharply.
“Don’t ever let me see you again,” he snapped over his shoulder, his voice sounding frighteningly quiet, with a slight hoarseness. Cassian’s footsteps quickly faded away, disappearing at the far end of the courtyard.
It was only a few seconds before Elian’s friends ran up to him.
“Elian! My God, Elian,” one of them muttered in alarm, trying to touch his shoulder. “We’ll call an ambulance right away. Wait, don’t move…”
“I’m fine,” Elian cut them off. His voice trembled, but he forced himself to sound firm, speaking through clenched teeth.
He pushed away the outstretched hands and, leaning against the cold wall, slowly stood up. His knees buckled and blood pounded in his temples, but he wouldn’t let them help him. On his own, staggering, he wandered away in the opposite direction from Cassian, leaving behind the worried whispers and pitying glances as he went.
He needed to get away. Away from their pity, away from the pain. Elian tried not to cry, blinking furiously to drive the treacherous tears from his eyes. He pulled himself together, forcing his breathing to steady, and walked over to the drink machine in the empty lobby of the neighboring building. He dropped some coins in and took an ice-cold bottle of water. With trembling fingers, he unscrewed the cap and splashed a little water on his split lip and the scrape on his cheekbone. The cold stung his skin, making him hiss quietly in pain, but it helped clear his thoughts a little and wash away the sticky blood.
Leaning his forehead against the cool glass, Elian looked up. Right below the window, in the university smoking area, stood Cassian.
He smoked, tilting his head back and exhaling smoke into the gray sky. His hand, clenching the cigarette, was tense, and the ink tattoos traced the contours of his muscles and veins beautifully, almost hypnotically, highlighting every line of his body. Cassian was looking the other way, but even that profile was enough to take Elian’s breath away. The wind ruffled his wavy hair, and when he slowly turned his head, Elian saw his eyes. Shining, dark, filled with that very same inscrutable darkness that had always drawn him in like a magnet, defying all logic.
Cassian looked pensive, detached, as if the guy he’d just beaten up were nothing more than a phantom, an annoying mistake that needed to be erased from his memory.
Elian pressed the ice-cold bottle against his burning cheek, feeling a poisonous, sweet pain spread through his heart. He looked at this figure, who just a minute ago had been mercilessly breaking his bones, and his lips twitched of their own accord.
“Handsome,” Elian whispered quietly, almost inaudibly, as he looked at his tormentor.
