Echo of the Past

05. Marcin

Translator: Schiotka
Editor: Pasadera, JacquelineMonaie
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The boy who ran away.

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I've been thinking about what happened. You know, about the "attempted kiss" and the "talk" I had with Nivan.

I provoked him. I know that. But I really didn't have the strength to talk about it at the time. Well, at least that's what I try to tell myself, because the only other conclusion is that... I'm a coward.

I couldn't sleep after the "closeness" of that evening.

And no, jerking off while wearing his hoodie didn't help either.

I couldn't sleep because I realized... No.

Let's change the subject.

The conversation.

His words were unpleasant. Fact. But only because they were true. And the truth hurts the most, they say.

But I don't regret hitting him. Well, maybe for a moment, when I saw the red mark on his cheek. And his eyes transform into those of an enraged animal.

I had the fleeting thought, then, that I was about to suffer a tragic death.

Fortunately things didn't turn out that way. I will live to see another day, and perhaps even manage to conquer the world, empowered by the malignant satisfaction that I hit the Redhead and survived.

But in all seriousness – I've been thinking about what the Redhead told me. I realized that from his perspective, everything looks completely different.

I wonder, however, why he never once mentioned that evening... only a few years ago, when we did what we did. It bothers me. A lot. It really stings. Maybe even more now than back then.

Because it seems to me that he doesn't want to remember. I don't know myself anymore... I don't understand.

Since I couldn't sleep, my mind wandered back to our childhood. How we met. And I've come to a few conclusions.

But let's start from the beginning...

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Our story... (sounds sweet, doesn't it?) started in the first year of junior high, somewhere in the middle of the term. After a few months – I don't remember when exactly – I moved to Nivan's class. I.T.

I was always interested in computers. I thought the subject, I don't know... manly and cool. In contrast to playing the piano, mind you.

From an early age, my parents told me I had a musician's ear and long fingers. That I was born to become a famous pianist. A brilliant idea, which deprived me of a normal, carefree childhood. They treated my music very seriously. I played in a few competitions, but I never put my heart into it. I never played with conviction.

I couldn't convince my parents to release me from my pianist fate. I didn't want to disappoint them. After all, they only wanted what was best for me.

Their marriage didn't go well. After they separated, I stayed with my father and persuaded him that I was more suited to studying computer science. Even today, I have absolutely no idea how I managed it. I must have had some super charisma and eloquence injection, or he realized that it was, in fact, a better option than a dubious career as a pianist. I'm grateful for that to this day.

At school, I was initially a shy and well-behaved kid.

Nivan was the exact opposite.

Where I sat up straight, trying to occupy as little space as possible, eventually hunching over my books in a tight ball, he would sit almost diagonally, at ease, and loosely place his forearm on the back of either his or my chair.