Chapter Text
Music from opened laptop filled the air in small apartment.
Take your time, hurry up
Choice is yours, don't be late
Take a rest as a friend
As an old
Memoria, memoria
Memoria, memoria
Kentin, swinging a little with a songs rhytm, ended the shower and, still naked, started shaving. He wanted to start his first day on academy as fresh as it's posssible, just like it was the profecy for next years. New begining and stuff.
Everyone outrun him already. First for a those few weeks he had spend in coma - they'll remain forever as a fathomless darkness, time crossed out from Kentin's life. Or even a substitute death? Clinical, sure. With no corridors with light at their end.
Then followed year of repair; healing body in hospital, then mind in... well, another hospital. Therapy. Medicaitons. Endless conversations with his parents. Burning down all the darkness, which circulated in Kentin's veins and posioned his heart.
Then he had to catch up witch school. And the life itself, with all it's harsh edges; many months have passed until Kentin's parents dare to leave him alone at home. His coming back for studies already feels like a diploma - for thei courage and his normality.
Kentin chose psychology. He rent a small apartment instead of room in dormitory - he yearned some own space, and besides... he didn't want to lay open too much. Roommate would notice everyhing: medicines, worse days, sleepless nights, scars usually hidden under long sleeves or wristbands.
And I swear that I don't have a gun
No, I don't have a gun
No, I don't have a gun
Kentin smiles to the mirror, just for the test. He felt allright, but last few years left him with instinctive fear that all good moment are made of glass - they'ss broke in his hands, hurting him with shards. Maybe this anxiety will begone too.
Now Kentin was staring at his reflection; mirror send him back calm, determined, hope-green glance. For a seocnd his eyes land on a star-shaped scar marring his chest - a spot he shoot himself three years ago.