*Aria*
"Come on, Aria! It's Friday! You can't just stay in here every night locked up like a prisoner." Anastasia had her usual bubbling energy, but it was a little too much today. She was half-dressed in something sparkly that caught the last rays of the Moscow evening sun.
She twirled, admiring herself in the mirror while she continued with her usual blabbing. "Trust me, you'll love it. We're going to this new place 'Club Vostrik'. They just opened recently and everyone says it's wild. Plus you've barely seen the city since you came here."
I was curled up with a textbook on my bed that I had been trying to read , but my eyes kept drifting over the pages; though I hadn't processed a single word in the last ten minutes.
Lena was busy braiding her long, dark hair in front of the mirror. "Yes Aria, you should definitely come" she said as our eyes met in the mirror. "You always bury your face in a book all the time."
I don't take that personally, because it's somehow the truth, plus good grades don't chase themselves.
I fake a smile instead. "No, you guys can go ahead without me. I'm super stressed right now. I've got this huge paper that's due Monday and Professor Petrov is a nightmare if you're even a minute late." That part is true; he's strict, and I'm stressing over it, but honestly, I just feel exhausted. The exhaustion I feel is less academic and more a weariness of the soul.
The thought of a club and the chaos that comes with it; pulsating music that vibrates in your chest, people pressing their bodies together and getting drunk, made my stomach turn. It wasn't mostly about the noise but the loss of control that came with it, and my past life had taught me to crave quiet.
"Aria you're no fun at all" Anastasia purses her lips and frowns. "Fine, fine" she sounds almost tired. "Just promise you'll come with us next time."
"I promise" The words tasted foreign on my tongue. I agree even though we both know I won't.
She continues arranging her things, before finally putting on a three-inch heel and glancing at herself one last time in the mirror. It was obvious they were done getting ready as they gathered their purses and keys.They laughed at something one of them said on their way out and when the door finally clicked shut and their voices faded down the hall, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
I try reading one last time and fail before even completing a line, so I just toss the textbook aside, and bring out my journal from under my pillow.
The book both looked old and smelled old from all the years of handling. I'm surprised the whole book hasn't fallen apart yet. There were just a few pages missing. I flipped through the pages and saw the drawings in the margins I made in the past that were mostly in black ink.
The further back I went, my handwriting got even messier. Some memories I had scribbled out, others I just tried to ignore.
I open a blank page and stare at it like that for more than twenty minutes with a pen in my hand, waiting for something to come to my mind. Anything at all, but nothing did.
Writing should have helped, but tonight, I can't find the words.
I hear the distant thumping music and partying far away. The city was still much alive even at this time of the night. Maybe I should have just followed..... but as quickly as the thought comes, I brush it off immediately.
Eventually, the pen slips from my hand and clatters to the ground. I don't bother reaching for it, instead I pull the blanket up over my shoulder, searching for a little comfort, and close my eyes. Sleep comes easily and I slowly drift off. The darkness swallows me whole immediately, but at least it was an escape from everything.
*Aleksei*
I should be anywhere but here.
In my office, the members-only club uptown, or the quiet solitude of my penthouse. Any of those places. Yet, here I am, in the middle of the fucking night, crouched outside a dorm window like a creep, one wrong move from cracking my skull open on the pavement below.
Aria left her window slightly open. She's careless or just stupidly trusts the world too much. Either way, it's an invitation, and I didn't bother resisting.
I push the window just wide enough to step through and enter with ease like someone who has done it before countless times. Although I have, but it was under different circumstances. It didn't involve a girl; neither was it for stalking purposes. It was for entirely different reasons.
The room is dark and quiet, just a faint moonlight filtering in. For a moment, I remain still, just watching her sleep. I watch her. The rise and fall of her chest, a soft sigh escaping her lips, a sound that almost made me falter for one second.
She's sprawled across her bed, one arm tucked under her pillow, the other resting near her side. Her pajama top's ridden up,
showing the curve of her waist and the top of her short knickers sitting low on her hips, barely covering anything.
An angel caught in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare if she knew I was out here.
So small, so utterly vulnerable in her sleep. Nothing like the girl I'd glimpsed in her photos.
A low murmur escaped her lips. A soft, troubled sound, and her head shifted restlessly on the pillow.
I stare at her for a second longer. The image of her, sleeping, vulnerable, was seared into my mind, before finally looking away and heading towards her things.
Tonight, I intend on finding more out. If I don't find anything, it will be worth just seeing her sleep.
Her desk looked like someone twice her age. Thick textbooks stacked like bricks; political theory, law, some dry crap about global system, more books.
I ignore all those and seem to be more interested in the light coming from her laptop that she left unlocked. Again, trusting.
I scroll through it. School files, Essays, texts to her mom, mostly boring things.
I keep scrolling and pause only when I stumble upon a hidden gem—a private photo album, password-protected. My fingers fly across the keys, easily deciphering the lock, and the images come into view. They look like they were taken years ago because her hair was a different shade.I scroll through the photos, taking in every inch of her; The curve of her hips, the way one strap had slipped down her shoulder, the other still in place.
One photo catches my eyes. She's in the middle of a crowd, her hair whipped across her face by the wind, her eyes half closed while smiling. She looks different... happy.
I'm seeing another side of her, the one she doesn't let anyone see.
But her secrets, I will uncover.
I close the folder and lean back in her chair. I tilt my head in her direction "Why the fuck did you have to be there Aria?"
If she hadn't just stuck her nose into what wasn't her business, I wouldn't be here invading her space like a ghost. But that's what she gets for merely existing.
I do a whole sweep of the room.
Her wardrobe is casual and is filled with coats, baggy sweaters and T-shirts. Her scent is on everything. Roses. Fucking perfect. She has no dresses or skirts, or anything girly, just a pair of short pajamas like the one she's wearing right now, but that doesn't count since no one gets to see her. *Except me*
I'm about to leave when I see a pocketbook half under her bed, that I almost missed. It looks like it should have been thrown out a long time ago. The handwriting inside is almost wiped out, and the faint light makes it even harder to read.
I open a particular page and my brows lift.
Well, well. Would you look at that?
A heart splitting into two drawn in black ink with a name messily scribbled above it.
Crying over some boy?
Pathetic.
I drop the book back in the same spot and glance at Aria who's still in the same position she was in. I bring out my phone and take a picture of her to add to my collection, then jump out the window.