The girl sits there, slightly swaying, with a bottle in her hand. Her eyes are half-closed, and her cheeks are flushed from alcohol. She is clearly drunk. Her hair, usually so well-groomed, is now disheveled, and her clothes look as if Rebel Girl has been wearing them for days. She isn't the Katrin I know, but at the same time, she is exactly the one I have been so desperately trying to forget.
My heart races, and a wave of emotions rises in my chest—anger, pain, fear, but most of all, tenderness. Despite everything that has happened, despite all the pain she has caused me, I still feel something for her. Something I can't explain, something that won't let me go.
Katrin looks up at me, her eyes cloudy but still holding that spark that once ignited a fire in me. She smiles, but it isn't the smile I remember. It's a smile full of pain and regret.
"You take so long to come back, I could die of boredom waiting for you," my ex-girlfriend says instead of a greeting. Her voice is a mix of sarcasm and laziness, as if she doesn't care, but at the same time, she can't resist being sharp.
Those words, as always, hit me, but I decide not to show it. Inside, a mix of resentment and anger boils, but I clench my teeth and pretend her words go in one ear and out the other.
I turn silently to the door, deciding to just leave. My hand reaches for the handle, I yank it sharply, but the door doesn't budge. It's locked. Something twitches in my chest—a mix of confusion and irritation. I pull again, harder, but the result is the same.
"You have a very good friend," her voice sounds behind me, and I feel her words slowly sinking into my mind. "He locked the door as soon as you came in."
I turn around to meet her gaze, but she has already gotten up from the bed. Her movements are slow, slightly unsteady, as if Katrin is still somewhere between sleep and reality. She sways, taking the first step toward me, and I involuntarily freeze, watching as she approaches.
Her eyes, despite all her feigned confidence, seem a little lost, but they still hold that same boldness that has always driven me crazy.
"Why did you come here? Nowhere else to sleep, so you decided to ask me?" My voice comes out sharp, almost harsh.
I remind her of how it all started. That evening when she, drunk and insistent, came to me, begging to let her stay the night. And then... then everything went wrong. We argued, she manipulated me, played with my feelings as if it were her favorite pastime.
"No. I came for you," her words are quiet but firm.
Katrin stops a couple of steps away from me, her eyes looking straight at me, and there is something in them that I can't understand. Is it sincerity? Or just another game?
"Why do you need me? Haven't you caused me enough pain? Or haven't you had enough fun at my expense, huh?" I turn away sharply, not wanting to look at her.
My words are filled with bitterness and resentment that have been building up inside me all this time. I sit down on my neighbor's bed, who, as always, turns out to be a traitor. I don't want to sit on my own bed, where she has just been. Her scent, her presence—they still linger in the air, and it's driving me crazy.
"Ugh! So I overdid it a little, how long are you going to sulk?" It sounds as if she is talking about something trivial, some little argument that could be forgotten in five minutes.
But Rebel Girl doesn't understand. She doesn't understand how deeply her words and actions have hurt me, doesn't understand that her behavior has humiliated me in my own eyes.
I clench my fists, feeling anger and resentment mixing inside me into a tangled knot. Does she enjoy this? Does she enjoy hurting me? If so, then we really aren't meant to be. I don't want to be her toy, don't want to fall into this trap over and over again. But at the same time, deep down, I feel something else—something I don't want to admit. Something that keeps me here, despite everything she has done.
Rebel Girl steps closer, her hand reaching out to me, but I sharply pull away. Her touch, even fleeting, could break down all my defenses, and I can't let that happen. Not now.
"I said everything I needed to when I was packing my things." Everything inside me is boiling.
Katrin sits down on the edge of Dima's bed, her movements slow, almost hesitant. She climbs onto the bed, leaning her head and back against the wall, as if seeking support not just physically but emotionally. She doesn't try to get closer to me, doesn't make any sudden movements—just sits there, staring into emptiness.
And suddenly, Katrin starts crying. Tears stream down her cheeks, and she wipes them away with her fists, like a little girl. Her crying is quiet, but no less bitter. In her eyes, I see remorse, but I can't just forget everything that has happened.
"I didn't think it would hurt you so much," her voice trembles, the words sounding sincere, but that only makes it harder for me. "Yes, you have more body hair, and I know it hurts men more than women."
"Yes, and you knew that perfectly well when you came up with that punishment," I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. "Because men, unlike women, have a different type of hair, and that makes it hurt so much more."
"I'm sorry," she begins to apologize, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. I stand up from the bed and walk over to her. She sits hunched over, wiping away tears that seem unwilling to stop.
"Look!" I sharply lift my shirt, showing her the red mark on my chest.
The skin around it is inflamed, sore, and even the slightest touch causes sharp pain.
"It still hurts and itches, and touching it makes me want to scream in pain. I've been using ointment, but it's been this color for three days now. I went to the doctor, and she said I'm allergic to the components."
Rebel Girl silently looks at my body, her eyes filling with tears. She starts crying again, but this time her tears are even more bitter. Katrin finally seems to realize that her actions haven't just caused me temporary discomfort, but real, lingering pain that still hasn't subsided.
I stand in front of her, feeling anger and resentment mix with something else—pity, understanding that she truly regrets it. But that doesn't change what has happened. Her tears can't erase the pain I feel, and they can't turn back time.
"I didn't want it to end like this," her voice is full of despair. "I just... I didn't think things would go this far."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Her tears, her sincerity—it all makes me doubt my feelings. But I know I can't just forget everything that has happened.
"You didn't think," I repeat, looking at her. "But that doesn't change what happened. You hurt me, and now I have to live with it."
She lowers her head, her shoulders shaking with fresh tears. I stand there, my heart torn between the desire to leave and the desire to stay, to try and fix things. But I know that some wounds take a long time to heal, and not all of them can be healed with words or regrets.
My hand involuntarily reaches out to her, but I stop myself, clenching my fingers into a fist. I'm afraid. Afraid that if I hug her now, I'll never be able to let go. Afraid that if I allow myself to feel her closeness again, everything I've tried to build inside myself—that wall I've been erecting day by day—will collapse in an instant.
"I'm sorry, I'm such a fool, I didn't know it would end like this," her voice trembles, the words sounding sincere, but that only makes it harder for me. "I thought it would just be a little strip of hairless skin on your chest, and we'd even laugh about it. I knew it would grow back in two weeks, and that would be it. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this."
I can't bear to see her suffering. My heart clenches, and I sit down next to her, carefully wrapping my arms around her. Katrin feels so fragile, so lost, that I can't stay indifferent. But she gently pushes me away, her hands trembling, her eyes filled with tears.
"Don't, I don't deserve you or your hugs," she says, as if she has already accepted that she has lost me. "As soon as the door opens, I'll leave and never come back into your life."
It seems like that's what I wanted. All this time, I've been telling myself that she only brings me pain, that I need to let her go. But now, as she speaks those words, I realize it has all been self-deception. The truth is, I want her. Her, with all her mistakes, her boldness, her tears.
I take her chin in my hand, gently wiping away the tears that continue to roll down her cheeks. Katrin doesn't look me in the eyes; she is clearly ashamed of what she has done. Her cheeks burn, her lips tremble, but I can't look away. She is so real in this moment, so vulnerable, that I can't resist.
After wiping her tears, I kiss her. Katrin stubbornly ignores the kiss, trying to lightly push me away by my shoulders. But I'm not going to give up.
"It's not going to work, my girl," I whisper, feeling her resistance gradually weaken. "Kiss me back, my Rebel Girl," I ask with a smile, and she finally gives in to my desire.
That kiss is reconciliatory. It holds everything: the pain, the forgiveness, the promise to start over. We have lost each other for a while, but now, in this moment, everything falls back into place.
It's not just a kiss—it's the most passionate kiss we have ever shared. It holds all the longing, all the pain, all the days we've spent apart. I've missed her so much that I can't pull away, can't stop.
When we finally break apart, Rebel Girl looks at me, her eyes still wet, but the hopelessness from before is gone.
"I don't want to lose you," the girl whispers, her voice quiet but full of sincerity.
"And you won't."
And in that moment, I realize that she is my Rebel Girl, and I am her Nerd. And together, we are stronger than any hurt or mistakes.