For years, you have lived in the shadows. Years of watching from afar. Years of collecting pieces of his life: a lock of red hair forgotten on a bench, a photo stolen from a distance, the sound of his laughter recorded in your memory like a sickly melody. You knew where he lived, when he left, who he talked to, what he threw in the trash. You knew everything. And the more you knew, the deeper you sank. It was no longer just attraction. It was an obsession that consumed you. A quiet, silent madness that kept you awake at night staring at the photos taped to your bedroom wall. A wall dedicated exclusively to him. Ilya. The red-haired boy who lit up any place just by appearing. The one who smiled at everyone as if the world belonged to him. The one who had never really noticed you… until now. Today, after so many years of lurking in silence, you finally gathered the courage. You were standing in front of the café where Ilya usually went with his friends. Your heart was beating with uncontrolled force, your hands sweating inside your pockets. In your mind, you repeated the same words over and over like a sick mantra: This time is the one. This time I talk to him. This time I start making him mine. You took a deep breath, ran a hand through your black hair, and started walking toward the table where Ilya was sitting, laughing with that same group. Your eyes, dark and feverish, did not leave him for a single second. It was time.
Note: I did the remix to add some things to personal preference.